


Collateral Damage

by mikalab



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Childhood Trauma, Drug Use, Gallavich, Gallavich AU, Homophobic Language, M/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Child Abuse, Sexual Content, Singer Mickey Milkovich, Slow Burn, multipov
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:21:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22547698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikalab/pseuds/mikalab
Summary: After four grueling years of college, Ian was finally done. Between complicated relationships and the giant question mark where his future should be, being overwhelmed was an understatement. While it seemed that life was moving forward for everyone around him, he remained frustratingly stagnant. That was until he met Mickey Milkovich, the sexy, cocky, and borderline rude lead singer of a local Chicago band.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Original Male Character(s), Mandy Milkovich/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 39





	1. Ian's POV

The theory that there are multiple universes with multiple different versions of yourself pisses me off. So, these scientists say that somewhere out there, there’s another me, living a better life than the one I was stuck with? Out there in space somewhere, probably in a black hole or something, there’s an Ian Gallagher who wasn’t forever cursed by being born to two addicts in the South Side of Chicago? He’s probably a doctor, living in the suburbs with a nice husband and three kids. I bet he even drives a Tesla. I hate that mother fucker. It’s probably not fair to look at it that way, considering the possibilities of _infinite_ universes. There’s probably also an Ian who is way worse off than me. But, that’s just too depressing to think about.

The sound of my teeth anxiously gnawing on the wooden pencil in my mouth was the only thing I was paying any attention to, even though my focus should have been on the open textbook in front of me. The very last final exam of my college career was coming up, and I was nowhere near prepared. I felt as though I wasn’t prepared for anything in my life at that moment. I was still working with a bunch of high schoolers at a grimy pizza shop, my sister wasn’t speaking to me and I was about to graduate college with absolutely no idea what I was going to do for the rest of my life.

I decided to major in communications because I thought it was a broad enough subject that it would be relatively easy to find a job. Turns out, I was wrong in that assumption. Mandy, my friend who shared the same major, already had a job lined up at a local Chicago news station, the exact job she was hoping to get. She was starting out as an assistant, probably fetching coffee for all of her coworkers, but it was a job in the field she wanted nonetheless.

It was hard for me to be happy for her when I had been applying for jobs twice as long as she had, and never even landed an interview. I wondered if it was because I didn’t have any skills, just an education in a random subject that would leave me in debt for the rest of my life if I didn’t get a career out of it. Suddenly, I was pelted in the head with a grape.

“Ah, what the hell, Mandy?” I complained, cradling my injured head.

“You weren’t listening to me,” she said offhandedly.

“So, you felt the need to cause me bodily harm?”

“You’re so dramatic,” she waved me off, scooping a handful of grapes out of the Tupperware and shoving them all into her mouth at once.

“And you’re disgusting,” I said, cringing as she gave me a toothy smile around the grapes, causing juice to escape her mouth and drip down her chin.

Mandy winked at me with a half-smirk as she finished chewing.

“So, are you down?” she asked, wiping her mouth on the back of her sleeve.

“Down for what?” I replied distractedly, watching two birds splash in the fountain in the middle of the courtyard.

Mandy rolled her eyes.

“Saturday after graduation, my brother’s band is playing at Bombshell’s. You have to come so we can celebrate.”

“I don’t know,” I sighed, “I really need to keep applying for jobs. At this point, it’s just sad that I haven’t found anything yet.”

“Ian, come on. You never go out with me anymore,” Mandy whined, stomping her feet underneath the table, “and Mickey’s band is actually really good,” she mustered up the best puppy-dog-eyes she could manage, begging like a child. “pleeeease?”

“We’ll see,” I left it at that, more to get her to leave me alone than anything.

“You workin’ tonight?” Mandy asked as she put her laptop back into her denim backpack.

“Nah,” I replied, closing the unread textbook.

“Perfect!” she clapped her hands together loudly before standing up, “you can give me a ride home, then.”

I rolled my eyes, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “You really need a car.”

“ _You really need a car,_ ” she mocked me, crossing her eyes and jabbing me in the shoulder with sharp fingernails.

I playfully shoved her as we made our way back through campus.

You kind of got used to walking through the University of Chicago after being there for four years, but that day, I decided to really take it all in again. I reminisced on being a Freshman and walking through the campus with wide-eyed wonder, in utter disbelief that I was actually lucky enough to have the chance to go there. The Victorian buildings all seemed so massive and intimidating, and some of the old lecture halls felt like they were crafted directly from Hogwarts. I had no friends that were even going to college, let alone the University of Chicago, so, it was a completely fresh start for me.

My older sister Fiona felt as though I was abandoning our life in South Side; like I was abandoning our family. She and my older brother Lip pretty much raised me, so she thought I owed them something. Lip actually supported my decision and wanted me to get out of the house. He knew I had a chance and he pushed me to take it, even though I was really second-guessing myself.

Lip came with me to orientation all those years ago, he walked right by my side as the nerves ate away at my gut. I could still remember standing at the vast front gates of the college with him, squinting our eyes at the sun as we admired the metal barrier.

I looked from the gate, back to Lip, and then to the gate again.

“Wow,” he commented before taking a drag of his cigarette, smoke pouring from his nostrils.

“Yeah…” I trailed off, “maybe we should just go.” I spun on my heel in a panic, ready to run far away and fast, before Lip pulled me to a stop by my elbow.

“Oh, no the fuck you don’t,” he said around his cigarette as he yanked me back, “I had to pay a babysitter fifty bucks in order to come to this shit with you. We’re goin’ in.”

Lip’s daughter Maya was barely a year old at that time. His girlfriend Ava was constantly at work, trying to take care of the baby and pay her share of the bills living at our house with us. Lip worked as a mechanic a few days a week, but money was tight with a newborn.

After shuffling through campus for three hours with a stack of brochures growing in my hand, I had finally seen all of my classes and found the basic amenities I would be using. My brother walked with me in silence as we headed back towards the apartment I had moved into the week prior. The campus map was rolled into a tight scroll in my fist, and I unraveled and rerolled it anxiously until Lip finally spoke.

“So,” he began, lighting another cigarette, “what’d ya think?”

“I think I’m scared shitless,” I replied truthfully.

“I’m not gonna lie, that shit was pretty intimidating,” Lip chuckled, “but you’ll be fine. One of us had to make it out, right?”

“I always thought it was going to be you,” I stated, staring at my feet as we walked down the cracked sidewalk.

“Me too,” he said honestly, “but then I knocked up my girlfriend.” Lip took another drag, inhaling deeply before holding the cigarette out to me. “So, I’m passing the torch to you.”

“Well, when you put it so eloquently,” I laughed before accepting the cigarette and taking a pull, praying it would calm my nerves. I didn’t really smoke back then, but I was desperate.

“I hope you know that Fi will come around. Just give her time,” he said as we climbed the stairs to my apartment building.

That had been a little more than four years ago, and I had barely spoken more than five words of awkward pleasantries to Fiona since.

I tried to go home for the holidays at first, but it was unbearably awkward. I just felt so unwelcome sitting at the dinner table with Lip and Ava politely asking questions about school, while Fiona only chimed in to make not-so-subtle jabs at me. Sitting at that table used to feel natural to me, but since I had started school, it felt like I was a guest in the home I grew up in.

It was like Fiona thought that I looked down on them as if they were less than me because I was getting an education. I stopped coming around so much after the second year, realizing that Lip was wrong and nothing was going to change. Lip and I made it a monthly ritual to meet up for a meal at Patsy’s Diner, but it just wasn’t the same. 

***

The nervous knot in my gut proceeded to tighten as I sat in the hard plastic chair in the middle of a crowded arena surrounded by my classmates. I kept shifting in my seat, the itchy fabric of my graduation gown feeling like a weighted blanket draped over my body. The stupid fucking tassel kept falling in front of my face and I was just begging for the tortuous ceremony to be over.

The dean of the school kept droning on and on about how proud of each and every one of us he was as if he hadn’t been saying that same exact speech for a decade. I kept turning in my seat to scan the large crowds in the bleachers, searching for Lip. I leaned forward to catch a glimpse of Mandy across the aisle. She was already eyeing me with a bright smile.

“ _We did it,_ ” she mouthed.

I swiped the back of my hand over my forehead as if to say, “Phew,” making her laugh.

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket, I looked around again, making sure the coast was clear before pulling my phone out to check the text.

_**Lip: I got called into work. I’ll make it up to u I promise** _

My heart sank as I read the text. I was the first person in my family to graduate from anything, and none of them were there to witness it. I locked my phone, sliding it back in my pocket with a sigh. Mandy was still looking at me, that time in question for the sad look on my face.

“ _Lip_ ,” I mouthed, and Mandy’s eyes widened before she shook her head sympathetically. When they started calling names for students to come up and accept their diplomas, I heard each of their families erupt in the stands, cheering for their loved one’s accomplishments. I was dreading the silence that was sure to follow when they called my name. I stood at the side of the stage, inching forward in the line every time someone in front of me walked. Eventually, I was standing at the base of the steps waiting for the person in front of me to cross.

“Ian Gallagher,” the bored voice said into the microphone.

I closed my eyes and inhaled a shaky breath before stepping forward. Before my foot even touched the step, I heard what sounded like a small army roaring from within the crowd of graduates. I looked up to see the entire row Mandy was in standing up and cheering for me.

My face was burning from embarrassment, but appreciation filled me to my core. I climbed the steps and strode towards the dean, shaking his hand with pride. He handed me my diploma and a camera flashed in my eyes, documenting the moment forever. That was the day I realized that family wasn’t only determined by blood. Mandy was my family.

After sitting through the hour that was left in the ceremony, we threw our caps up in the air while the sound of airhorns blew from the stands in all directions. When exiting the arena in a sea of people, I stood at the side entrance and waited for Mandy. I watched as all the graduates poured through the doors with their families, toting teddy bears, and flowers and huge grins. Girls were tiptoeing in their high heels and posing for pictures while the guys hugged their crying mothers. Before long, I spotted Mandy in the back of the crowd, her dark hair and deep scowl easy to spot as she attempted to maneuver through the crowd. By the time she made it over to me, she was thoroughly annoyed.

“Apparently none of our graduating class wears deodorant,” she said, scrunching up her nose as she pushed her dark hair out of her face.

I laughed as I scooped her up in my arms and spun her around. After putting her back on her feet, I half expected to get smacked on the back of the head. But in a strange turn of events, Mandy reached up and pinched my cheek affectionately.

“Proud of you, doofus,” she said with a grin.

“Even more proud of you, bonehead,” I replied, closing my fist and knocking on her forehead, “graduated college, and it’s still hollow,” I said with a click of my tongue.  


Mandy lifted her hand to give me the smack I had been waiting for, but the sound of her phone ringing interrupted her.

“Hold that thought,” she said, holding a finger in my face before swiping her thumb across the screen and putting it on speaker.

“Why, _hello_ , my lovely brother,” she smiled down at the phone, “not as lovely as me of course.”

The voice on the other end of the phone scoffed.

“Please, we all know I’m the better-looking sibling. You’re the one with the brains.”

Mandy turned to me, lifting her eyebrows and pointing at her head as if I was proven wrong regarding the contents in her skull.

“—well, you wouldn’t get shoved if you walked a little fuckin’ faster,” the muffled voice in the phone complained.

“Mick, where are you?” Mandy laughed.

“I’m walking past a group of people in red caps and gowns,” he replied dryly, “I don’t fuckin’ know, Mandy, I’ve never been to this place. What are you standing by?”

“A tall, flamin’ hot redhead,” she replied with a wink in my direction.

“Yeah?” Mickey laughed, “what’s her name?”

I leaned forward with the deepest voice I could muster and said, “Ian.”

Mickey laughed loud into the receiver, “she sounds gorgeous.”

“We’re standing under the banner by the side entrance, shut up and get your ass over here,” Mandy said before hanging up on him altogether.

“I’m actually gonna head out,” I said, hooking my thumb over my shoulder, “I’m gonna steam this before returning it. You’re good on a ride, right?”

“You’re going to steam the gown you rented?” Mandy asked skeptically before closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose, “they won’t charge you for wrinkles, Ian. You are painfully gay.”

“Saving money on extra fees is gay?” I asked, “huh, I always thought it was because I enjoy sucking dick.”

Mandy laughed before pulling me in for another hug. 

“You’re coming tonight right?” she asked voice muffled in my shoulder.

“What’s tonight?” I asked.

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me!” she exclaimed, “you never listen to me.”

“See you tonight at Bombshell’s to see Mickey’s band play,” I yelled with a playful grin as I backed away from Mandy. I shot her with finger guns, giving her the best-exaggerated wink I could muster.

She flipped me the bird before adding, “I thought we talked about you trying to wink, it’s not a good look!” 

***

I had never met Mandy’s brother. Or any of her family for that matter. I knew she and Mickey were close, but she never really went into much detail about her home situation. I knew it had pretty much just been her and Mickey her whole life, but any time I tried to get her to elaborate on her past, she shut down. I stopped trying to get her to open up pretty quickly into our friendship. I figured if she wanted me to know, she would tell me. Me, on the other hand, had a bad habit of telling people every single sad detail about my life, rattling off uncomfortable information like I was talking about the weather.

“ _Hi, I’m Ian, nice to meet you! Both of my parents are drunks who also have a dependence on narcotics. They left me and my siblings on the streets to fend for ourselves at a very young age, and now, my sister hates me because I decided to get an education instead of wasting my life away in a house that probably has black mold growing in the walls. What’s your trauma?_ ”

Maybe that’s what attracted me to Mandy. She was straightforward but in a different way. She wouldn’t talk about her life, but she’d be the first to tell you the shoes you were wearing were awful. I guess we balanced each other out in that way.

“Ian! Hurry up!” I heard Mandy’s voice yell at me from around the corner of the sketchy bar I was approaching. This definitely wasn’t my scene, but Mandy had a tendency to force me out of my comfort zone. As I pulled open the heavy door, Mandy pounced on my back.

“Although the name would suggest otherwise, I promise you this isn’t a titty bar. So don’t worry your little homo head.”

“Are you already drunk?” I laughed as we entered the bar.

Mandy put her hand in front of my face, pinching her fingers together and leaving very little space in between, “maybe just a tad,” she said before jumping back down to her feet.

“What kind of music does Mickey’s band play?” I asked, waving my hand in front of my face to clear the excessive amount of cigarette smoke from the air.

“Gospel music,” she said with a straight face, looking me dead in the eyes before slapping her palm on the bar top in front of us, “two beers, please!”

The heavily tattooed girl working behind the bar rolled her eyes but obliged.

“Wait, really?” I asked, surprised.

“No, dumbass. Look at this fucking place,” she snorted “rock. Alternative? I don’t fucking know. It’s loud.”

Before I could even think of a comeback, she was shoving a beer bottle in my hand and chugging her own.

“Slow down, Mandy. Jesus,” I said with genuine concern, “you don’t want to end up wrapped around the toilet again,”

Mandy waved me off as a stocky guy with greasy black hair approached us. He was eyeing Mandy like she was an oasis in the desert. I was about to tell the guy to fuck off before Mandy stood on her tippy toes and gave the ogre a kiss.

“I was looking for you, Nico,” she said against his lips.

I stood there for a while but quickly realized Mandy wasn’t going to peel herself from Nico’s body any time soon, so after awkwardly picking at the label on the bottle in my hands, I aimlessly walked away. I headed towards a separate room in the bar that had a jukebox, pool tables, and even more smoke. The room was littered with loud, tattooed bikers clad in leather like they were plucked straight out of a cliche movie. I had never felt more out of place. My eyes scanned the room and fell onto a corkboard hanging on the back wall, a piece of fluorescent orange paper that was pinned to it stuck out like a sore thumb. I plucked the page off of the board before reading the bold lettering. 

**COLLATERAL DAMAGE HOMETOWN SHOW MAY 18TH 9PM!**

“Any chance you could get out of my way?” I heard a stern voice say from behind me.

I turned with a comeback on my tongue but it fell short once I laid eyes on the man glaring at me with impatience. He was shorter than me by at least three inches, with black slicked-back hair and cerulean eyes. His pale skin was damn near perfect, besides a small scar straight through his left eyebrow. He had a small silver hoop decorating the side of his nose, and though I wasn’t one who had ever been into facial piercings, this guy pulled it off. My eyes were torn to his full lips when his tongue darted out to wet them before spewing another insult my way.

“The fuck is going on here? A staring contest? You’re blocking the fuckin’ bathroom, man. _Move._ ”

I shook myself out of the daze I was in and stepped to the left at the same time he stepped to the left, so I moved to the right, and so did he. He huffed in annoyance and I blushed in embarrassment as I stepped back to the left, holding my hands out towards the dark hallway as if to say ‘ _Be my guest_ ,’ The beautiful stranger stomped towards the men’s room without another look back.

An hour later and a few shots deep, I was definitely feeling myself. Mandy bummed a few quarters off of me and swayed over to the jukebox to pick a new song. I was leaning against the bar, sipping a beer while watching the roadies set up the stage with amps, microphones, and instruments. I stared distractedly at the men skillfully zip tying wires together and stepping around each other with surprising grace. I shouldn’t have been shocked when I recognized one of the men to be the greaseball Nico who’d had his tongue down Mandy’s throat.

I found myself eventually scanning the ever-growing crowd of people for the asshole from the bathroom. The alcohol coursing through my bloodstream had me feeling brave and while I was telling myself that if I saw him again I’d confront him, I was just making an excuse to talk to him again. Just then, as if the heavens heard my plea, I saw him.

He made his way to the center of the stage to adjust the microphone in the stand. He turned to speak to one of the roadies, pointing in the direction he wanted the other mic stands set up. Of _course_ , he was Mandy’s brother. Of-fucking-course. I was kicking myself for not realizing how much they looked alike when I first saw him. Mickey tapped the microphone with two fingers, causing a loud thud to echo through the PA system.

“Testing, one-two check, testing,” he said into the microphone, lips touching the windscreen and causing his voice to come out deep and muffled, “ffffuck, testing, one-two fuck.”

A few women in the room whooped at that, making him grin crookedly as he stared down at his feet. Mickey looked up, somewhere behind me and pointed his finger toward the ceiling, indicating to the sound guy that he wanted his mic turned up. He spoke into the microphone again before giving a thumbs up. I found myself slowly moving closer to the stage. I kept walking until I spotted a tall table a few feet away and decided to lean against it, beer still firmly in my grasp. I was staring up in wonder as Mickey ducked his head underneath his guitar strap and began tuning the instrument.

My drunken reverie was rudely interrupted when I felt Mandy jump on my back. The unexpected force shoved me forward into the table, causing the metal legs to screech loudly against the floor. The awful sound pulled Mickey’s eyes straight to mine. We made brief eye contact for a moment, and confusion flashed on his face before he visibly softened at the sight of his sister.

“Mickeeeey,” Mandy yelled as she slid off my back and climbed onto the stage to hug her brother.

“You’re fuckin’ wasted,” he said with a laugh as he returned the hug, holding the guitar that was strapped to him off to the side.

“Yeah, and?” she giggled and draped her arm over his shoulder. I could really see the resemblance between them at that moment. Their smiles were the same.

Mandy gazed around the bar from the stage for a moment before her heavy eyes landed on me again. She jumped as if she had suddenly remembered my existence.

“Ian!” she yelled, “Mickey, this is Ian. Ian, my brother, Mickey.” She waved her hand between us obnoxiously as she introduced us to each other.

He sized me up skeptically before asking, “he your boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend?” she exclaimed, “ha! No way. This guy’s strictly dickly, my friend. Plays the fuckin’ skin flute,” she laughed loudly at her own joke, meanwhile, my entire body was on fire with embarrassment. Mandy on a normal day had no filter, drunk Mandy was nearly unbearable.

I lifted my hand in an awkward attempt to wave and smiled shyly at Mickey, “that’s me. Strictly…dickly. Nice to meet you,” I closed my eyes and shook my head, regretting even opening my mouth. Something about this guy made it impossible for me to form coherent words.

Mickey arched an eyebrow but said nothing. He hated me. I could see it written all over his stupid, beautiful face. He thought I was an imbecile. I was mentally kicking myself when Mandy suddenly jumped off the stage and joined me on the floor, hooking her arm through mine. Just then, three other guys walked onto the stage, the first two grabbing their instruments from their respective stands while the last one sat down behind the drums.

The energy in the bar instantly shifted and everyone began making their way up to the front of the stage. As I gathered my surroundings, I realized just how packed the room had become. There were at least 70 people crammed into the tiny bar, all here to see Mickey’s band play. I watched as he put the guitar pick between his teeth so he could use both hands to unzip his hoodie. As the article of clothing slipped off of his arms, a group of girls front and center began whistling and yelling degrading things like, “ _Yeah, take it off_!” I rolled my eyes. Groupies.

I noticed then that one of Mickey’s arms was almost completely covered in tattoos. From where I was standing I couldn’t tell what they were, besides the only one seemingly done in color on the back of his hand, which was a rose. By the time the crowd migrated forward, we were no longer all that close to the stage. Mandy grabbed my hand, forcing me to abandon my half-full beer bottle on the table. She began pushing past people in order to get to the very front while simultaneously yelling “Move! Sister of the singer comin’ through!”

I mouthed my apologies to the people we shoved but didn’t dare try and stop her. Shortly after making it to the barrier, the girls who were yelling obscene things at Mickey gave us dirty looks, which Mandy thankfully didn’t notice. She would have had them swinging by their cheap extensions in a heartbeat.

Suddenly, the lights shut off, leaving the room in complete darkness. Everyone began screaming and cheering, Mandy being the loudest of them all and nearly busting my eardrum in the process. The white spotlights lining the stage beamed up at the band as the first riff from Mickey’s guitar exited the amplifier and filled the room. The lights began changing colors, casting shadows over Mickey’s face and contouring his features.

_Purple. Green. Blue._

The way Mickey worked the stage was mesmerizing. It’s not that the rest of the band wasn’t good or worth paying any attention to, but with Mickey up there doing what he was doing, it was impossible to look anywhere else. His voice crooning through the speakers went straight to my chest and I could feel the words coursing through me. Once they were three songs into the set, Mickey had sweat rolling down his face as he skillfully plucked the strings of his guitar. He was making his way around the stage during his solo, stopping briefly in front of the bass player. He stood face-to-face with the other man before leaning back on his heels, his eyes shut tightly and he bit his lip as he made the guitar scream loudly. His hair was drenched and no longer neatly slicked back, but parted to one side with loose strands hanging in front of his face.

Mickey’s passion was absolutely infectious. He strode back to the microphone directly in front of me and his gravelly voice filled my ears. The instruments stopped momentarily and his voice was the only sound in the whole room, one octave away from a whisper. Then, nothing. Not even the crowd made a noise, but the anticipation radiating from the room full of bodies had a pulse. Mickey stared into the sea of people, and I saw a genuine appreciation in his eyes before they locked with mine. He cocked his head to the side and his face broke out into a huge grin, and I nearly melted into a fucking puddle onto the floor.

Suddenly, all the lights shut off again, breaking our connection. The crowd erupted, this time shoving harder than before, propelling my body into the barricade painfully. In the darkness, I heard Mickey’s voice through the microphone.

“Chicago,” he said, breathless, “I fucking love you.”

On cue, white lights above and behind the stage flashed brightly, lighting up the whole room while the stage broke out into a flurry of sights and sounds as the band jumped back to life. Every instrument being played in unison was loud and captivating and I found myself jumping up and down with the crowd. As my eyes followed him running around the stage, I came to one final conclusion: I needed to know Mickey Milkovich.


	2. Ian's POV

“Okay, get your shit together,” I whispered to myself, hearing my shaky voice ricochet off the walls in the tiny bathroom of Bombshell’s.  
I had been standing there for fifteen minutes trying to talk myself down from the high of Mickey’s performance. I cupped my hands underneath the stream of cold water spurting out of the faucet and splashed it onto my face. Several droplets splattered onto the mirror and I watched as they dripped down, creating long streaks that slightly distorted my reflection.

_Mandy is your best friend. You cannot have a thing for her brother._

I repeated the mantra in my head over and over until the words no longer made sense. I wasn’t even sure if I believed the bullshit I was spewing. Mandy more than likely wouldn’t even care that I had a thing for Mickey, in fact, she might’ve even encouraged it. I was only making excuses and I knew it. The truth was that I was afraid of rejection. I wasn’t even sure he was into guys. Mandy had never mentioned it before, but she never really mentioned anything before. Even if he did play for the same team, who’s to say I was even his type?

Loud cheers from the other side of the door interrupted my self-deprecating inner monologue. My expression in the reflection turned from stern to bewildered before I made my way towards the commotion. Upon exiting the restroom, I let my eyes readjust to the dimly lit bar as I scanned the room for a familiar face. I spotted Mickey first, then the rest of his band surrounded by a crowd of cheering people. It was obviously some sort of a celebration, pats on the back and congratulations booming from all around.

It no longer looked like a group of disinterested artists, but a cluster of boys animated with childish glee. It was adorable. I watched Mickey smile, a grin so big it could have shattered his face. I was hypnotized. More people gathered and I lost sight of Mickey as he was absorbed in the ever-increasing crowd. I tried to conceal my disappointment when I saw Mandy squeeze through the mob of exhilarated groupies, alone.

“Where the fuck have you been?” she shrieked, accusation in her tone, “you missed it!”

“Missed what?” I asked, reluctantly tearing my gaze from the crowd to look at Mandy.

“Collateral Damage is getting signed!” she shrieked again, “some dude walked up to Mickey and handed him a card and was like, ‘ _you’re a super badass band and we’re interested in signing you_ ,’” her voice dropping about six octaves as she tried to imitate the man.

Before I could respond, Mandy was scooped up from behind by her brother. My breath caught in my throat at the sudden proximity. I quickly composed myself before nodding and smiling politely at him.

“Congratulations, man.”

“I’m having some people over at my place tonight to celebrate, you comin’?” he asked Mandy, seemingly ignoring my congratulations until his gaze landed on me. He was standing next to his sister with his arm draped over her shoulder and her position made it impossible for her to see what followed. A smirk, preceding a once-over and a glimmer of playfulness in his eye that looked almost like a challenge.

 _What the fuck was that?_ I wondered.

My eyes widened slightly and I choked on the breath that was still caught in my throat.

“You can bring Strictly Dickly along too,” he said with that same glint in his eye.

“Well, obviously,” Mandy said. Although she missed the subtle exchange, I wasn’t sure how she couldn’t feel the awkwardness pouring off of me. Either she was unobservant, or I was losing my mind. Probably the latter. I asked myself what I had to lose before I spoke again.

“We’ll be there,” I said to Mickey with my head held high, trying to feign confidence as my stomach did somersaults.

Mickey squinted his eyes at me with a smile playing on his lips.

Just then, one of Mickey’s bandmates walked over and clapped a hand on his back, causing him to break eye contact.

“Hey man, let’s head over to your place now,” the drummer said, “we need to stop and get some more booze on the way, and Dylan’s gonna pick us up some party favors.”

And with that, Mickey was gone. I smiled as I watched him walk away, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mandy glaring at me.

I turned to face her, narrowing my eyes before asking, “What?”

“You want to fuck my brother,” she said calmly.

“What?” I squeaked, “no I don’t.” _guess she wasn’t as unobservant as I’d thought._

“Oh my god, you _do!_ ” Mandy squealed as she doubled over in laughter.

I felt heat spreading to my face for the millionth time that night.

“Can we please just go?” I practically whined, grabbing her elbow and dragging her drunken form towards the exit. Mandy continued to mock me once we were in the parking lot, chanting,

“Ian and Mickey, sittin’ in a tree, S-U-C-K-I-N-G.”

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. I knew it was going to be a long night, but at that moment, I really had no idea just how long it would be. 

***

“So, were you like, imagining him naked on stage?”

“Mandy, _please_ ,” I begged for the thousandth time since we’d been walking up the dark street leading to Mickey’s house.

Mandy’s teasing was relentless, and I was on the verge of ripping my hair out. Her steps faltered a bit, and at first, I ascribed it to her intoxication until she grabbed my hand, stopping us underneath the golden hue of a streetlight.

“Ian, look. I know I’m giving you a ton of shit right now. I wouldn’t be your best friend if I didn’t,” she sighed, tightening her grip on my hand for such a brief moment, I almost didn’t even catch it. Mandy wasn’t the type to be overly affectionate unless the moment called for it.

“But,” she continued, “I’m also Mickey’s sister. I know him better than anybody,”

“Okay,” I said, her seriousness, freaking me out, “Mandy, you’re honestly making this more than it really is. Sure, I find him attractive, but I wasn’t even planning on doing anything about it…you’re the one who won’t stop talking about it.”

“Because I also know you!” She exclaimed, dropping my hand, “you would get attached to a fucking paper bag if it showed you enough attention. I just want you to be careful, that’s all. I don’t want you to end up hurt.”

Mandy huffed with annoyance and began walking away. I rolled my eyes and ran to catch up with her.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? Can we just drop this subject and have a good night? I promise I won’t get attached to Mickey,” I poked her in her most ticklish spot right underneath her ribcage, to which she swatted my hand away with a laugh, “but those paper bags?” I continued, “I can’t make any promises.”

Mandy let out a groan that quickly turned into a laugh, “you’re the fucking worst.”

“And you love it,” I said as we approached a house in one of the nicer neighborhoods in South Side, which wasn’t saying much.

“What about William?” she asked as we followed the cracked sidewalk leading to the house, “I haven’t seen him around in a while.”

“He’s been out of town for like two weeks for work,” I said, “his dad is getting him ready to like, take his place in the family business or something.”

“Ah, born into money,” Mandy sighed, “why don’t you just marry him? You wouldn’t even have to worry about getting a job. Just be a stay at home dad and live the life of luxury with your five children and a white picket fence.”

I visibly cringed, “I didn’t spend the last four years in college to become a trophy wife. The sex is good, but I’m not looking for anything serious and he knows that. We’ve got a good thing going.”

“Well, give him my number if he decides dick doesn’t do it for him anymore,” Mandy said as we ascended the wooden porch steps.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I chuckled before following her through the front door.

Upon entering the house, we were immediately greeted by a guy shoving a shot glass into each of our hands. Mandy instantly threw her's back like it was nothing. The clear glass in my hand was filled to the brim with a bright green unknown liquid. I decided to seize the moment and ask questions later. I took the shot, not as effortlessly as Mandy, but I took it nonetheless. Whatever it was that I had just consumed was strong. It tasted like rubbing alcohol with a slight hint of apple. I held a flat hand to my chest as I choked and coughed on the liquor burning my esophagus, while Mandy eyed me with a disappointed look.

“Sorry we’re not all professional drinkers like you, Mandy,” I said, raising my hands in mock surrender through coughing fits.

“You’re gonna have to step up your game if you wanna keep up with me tonight, Gallagher,” Mandy said, slapping my ass before disappearing into the crowded living room.

I don’t know why I was surprised, but the inside of Mickey’s home was pretty nice. I took in my surroundings as I approached the keg sitting in the middle of the living room floor. As I filled my cup, I noted that the home wasn’t overly decorated, but there were little things that showed pieces of Mickey’s personality. It was the normal party scene: people smoking, drinking, dancing and laughing. My eyes narrowed in on the living room, where a plain black velvet couch sat in front of a big-screen TV mounted to the wall. I flippantly paid attention to the couch overflowing with people talking and passing around a blunt while a girl at the end was absorbed in her cellphone, furiously abusing its texting function.

What truly caught my interest though, were the three framed posters above the sofa. Freddie Mercury, Jimi Hendrix, and Kurt Cobain. There was something very personal about seeing Mickey’s musical influences proudly displayed on his living room wall for anyone to see. To anyone else, they probably looked like some regular posters of a few musicians, but after witnessing the passion Mickey exuded on stage that night, the posters felt like they meant more than that. I felt as though I was looking into some secret window into Mickey’s soul like maybe those were the people who gave him hope.

I continued to aimlessly make my way around Mickey’s house, taking everything in while nursing my beer. He had a bookshelf on the far side of his living room next to a rack that had an impressive amount of DVDs on it. I was on my way over to see his movie collection when I spotted the record player in the corner with a pile of records just sitting on the floor next to it. I bent down and began sifting through the vinyl, noticing he had everything from The Beatles, to Pink Floyd, to Mozart.

“Has anyone ever told you it’s not polite to go through other people’s shit?”

Mickey’s voice so close behind me made me jump, causing some of my beer to slosh over the rim of my cup onto the floor between us.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” I scrambled to find something to clean it up when suddenly a white bulldog trotted over and began licking up the spilled beer off of the floor.

“Keanu!” Mickey shouted, bending over to grab the dog’s collar, “we talked about this, man. Beer. Is. Not. For. Dogs,” he pulled the dog into one of the side bedrooms and closed the door.

“Going through my shit and getting my dog drunk?” Mickey clicked his tongue in disapproval, “you’re on a roll tonight.”

“Sorry,” I shrugged sheepishly, “I was just caught off guard by your…broad taste in music. Didn’t really peg you as a Mozart fan.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he replied, waiting for my answer expectantly. I felt put on the spot and uncomfortable as I struggled to find my voice.

“No, I—” I stammered, “I didn’t mean—”

Mickey laughed, putting his hand on my shoulder as if to comfort me.

“I’m fucking with you.”

I felt the weight of his hand long after he pulled away.

“I’m a music fan,” he continued, “I guess I don’t really believe in genres. Why lump something like music into different categories? If you like something, you like it. Easy,” Mickey shrugged as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Anyway, we’re getting ready to play some beer pong and I want you on my team. Put those long-ass arms of yours to good use.”

I didn’t realize that I hadn’t responded because I was too busy replaying ‘I want you on my team’ in my head over and over. Mickey snapped his fingers in my face.

“You gotta fuckin’ staring problem, you know that?” he asked but didn’t wait for an answer as he turned on his heel. I smiled and followed him into the dining room. I probably would have followed him anywhere.

***

Turns out, I really sucked at beer pong and Mickey wasn’t much better. We played against Mandy and Dylan, the bass player in Collateral Damage who to our dismay, was a beer pong champion. By the end of the game, Mickey and I were barely able to stand anymore, giggling like two teenage girls at a slumber party.

“Wha—” Mickey placed a hand on my shoulder to steady himself, lifting one finger and hiccuping loudly before continuing, “how’s that quote go? You miss one hundred percent of the shots you take?” he closed his eyes and grinned, “yeah. That’s you with beer pong.”

“M’pretty sure that’s wrong,” I said, pointing at Mickey, “nice try, though.”

“ _M’pretty sure_ I saw you on an episode of _Where Are They Now?_ last week,” he pointed back at me, sputtering a laugh at his own joke before even getting to the punchline, “Orphan Annie.”

“Oh!” I exclaimed, “I loved your work in Lord of the Rings, Frodo! I never finished the movies, so tell me, did you succeed in destroying the ring?”

Mickey was slack-jawed, hand on his chest feigning shock, “so, that’s how it is?”

He then reached into a cup on the table, scooping up a handful of wet ping pong balls and pelted them all at my head simultaneously.

I ducked my head into my arms attempting to block them but still felt them all bounce off the top of my head.

“Don’t worry, Mickey!” Mandy yelled from across the dining room, “Ian’s used to having balls flying at his face!”

Mickey was doubled over in laughter as I ran around the table, picking Mandy up and flinging her over my shoulder. As she hung upside-down against my back, she shrieked in terror while doing her best to punch my ass and kick her legs frantically. I approached the garbage can, stepping down on the pedal to make the lid lift.

“Say ‘uncle,’ or your next stop is in the trash where you belong,” I warned.

“Ian! Put. Me. Down.”

“Really? Well, alright…” I said as I began to lower her headfirst into the can.

“Uncle! Uncle! Uncle! Ian, FUCKING UNCLE!”

I laughed as I put her back down onto her feet, she looked like she wanted to fight but her face went pale and she clamped her hands over her mouth and darted towards the bathroom instead.

Mickey sauntered over then, still laughing at me and Mandy’s playful quarrel.

“We’re about to head outside to smoke. Wanna come?” he said, hooking his thumb over his shoulder. I noticed his face was flushed from the alcohol, red splotches spreading down his neck and tempting me to reach out and touch; to feel the warmth underneath my fingertips. Mandy’s voice was playing in my head, saying something about not getting attached, but I tuned her out. I took a deep breath, exhaled the inappropriate thoughts and smiled. “Sure.”

I took a seat next to Mickey on the dirty futon that sat on his front porch and watched as he pulled everything out in order to start rolling the joint. My eyes focused on his tattooed knuckles as he sprinkled the weed into the white paper. F-U-C-K U-U-P was the lovely quote scrawled across his fingers. I laughed quietly to myself and Mickey side-eyed me but continued working as he spoke.

“Something funny over there, Annie?”

“You know I’ve heard every ginger joke in the book, right?” I asked before adding, “you’re not clever.”

“You know that’s not gonna stop me, right? Cheeto-head,” Mickey responded playfully.

“Oh, so we’re five-years-old now? Got it,” I said, voice lacking any venom.

Mickey brought the joint to his mouth, and I watched as his tongue glided across the paper. He probably felt me watching him because his eyes shot to the side and made contact with mine. He ran the paper across his tongue again, not looking away, and I immediately felt the need to readjust myself.

I opened my mouth to say something I probably would’ve regretted, but the front door opening stopped me. The sound of loud music and party-goers competing to talk over each other spilled out onto the front porch along with Mandy and Dylan. Dylan took a seat in the lawn chair across from the futon Mickey and I were seated on, and Mandy plopped down onto his lap. I idly wondered what happened to Nico, but I decided against asking. Mandy hooking up with Dylan made more sense, anyway. He was just her type: so skinny he looked half-dead and almost every inch of skin was covered in tattoos, all the way up to his neck. The bass player had a neatly trimmed beard, contrasting messy hair and an eyebrow piercing. The embodiment of Mandy’s perfect man.

“Feelin’ better, princess?” Mickey asked sardonically while lighting the tip of the joint.

Mandy flipped him off before replying, “It was a false alarm. No thanks to Dickbreath over there,” she said, waving her hand flippantly towards me.

“I’ve been called worse,” I shrugged.

“Hand me that shit,” Mandy muttered, reaching over the glass table between us to grab the joint from Mickey.

“Nah,” he replied, taking another hit and making a show of letting the smoke slowly snake up his nostrils, “can’t fuck up rotation. This ain’t your first rodeo.”

Mandy scoffed, obviously annoyed by her brother's rules when he passed the joint to me.

Upon accepting the joint from Mickey, I took a hit. It was some strong shit, but I ignored the burn as the smoke entered my lungs. I was suddenly caught up in the realization that my lips were where Mickey’s had just been seconds before, and instead of exhaling the smoke, I held it in for too long and sent myself into a frenzied coughing fit.

“Damn, looks like it’s Ian’s first rodeo though. Get it together, dude,” Mickey laughed, slapping me on the back until the fit subsided. His eyes were hooded and he had a wry grin on his face, already looking completely patched. Mandy and Dylan laughed at my expense as I tried to compose myself, yet again. I took too long to realize that Mickey’s hand rested on my back a second longer than probably socially acceptable, but I wrote it off as the alcohol and weed fucking with my head. I wiped the wetness from my eyes that the coughing attack caused and passed the joint to Mandy. She took a hit, inhaled, then grasped Dylan’s face in both of her hands before shotgunning the smoke into his mouth.

“Ay! Nobody wants to see that shit! The fuck outta here, man,” Mickey hollered at the now kissing couple, his face scrunched up, shooing them away with his hand in disgust, “at least give me the fucking joint back, damn,” he continued, making a grabbing motion across the table.

Without breaking the kiss, Dylan picked Mandy up bridal style, stopping briefly in front of us to hand Mickey the joint, then disappeared into the house with Mickey yelling behind them, “stay the fuck outta my room!”

Mickey and I were alone once again. I watched on the corner of my eye as he took another hit off of the shrinking joint and laid his head back on the headrest of the futon.

“College boy, huh?” he muttered, clearing the smoke from his lungs.

“What?” I asked, the weed making me slow, “oh, uh, yeah. Communications major,” I threw up a lazy ‘hang loose’ sign with my hand for some reason, and immediately regretted it.

Mickey’s head was still resting on the back of the couch, and with his eyes closed he snickered, eyes crinkling up at the corners.

“You’re pretty bad at conversation for a communications major.”

I was aware that he had just insulted me, but I didn’t care because I was too busy studying his profile. The dim light above our heads was casting shadows in what would normally be all the wrong places, highlighting any and every imperfection. But, unsurprisingly, it worked for Mickey. I had yet to see him in any situation that made him look unattractive. Dripping in sweat on stage, sloppy drunk and carefree playing beer pong, and sitting there on a filthy couch in horrible lighting. He would have probably punched me in the face for thinking it, but he was beautiful. It was honestly intimidating.

His black hair was neatly slicked back again, no longer matted with sweat, but instead had an air of fluffiness to it as if he’d washed it recently. As my eyes scanned his face, I noticed a cluster of faint freckles dusting his cheeks and nose, something a person probably wouldn’t notice unless they were looking too closely. My attention was brought to his full lips again when he licked them, it happened so quickly though, I probably would have missed it had I not been staring.

The urge to lean forward and feel those lips against mine was suddenly overwhelming. I was so lost in my reverie, still staring at his mouth, I hadn’t realized Mickey was now staring back at me, eyes hooded with a dark intensity behind the sea of blue. His breath was shallow and I could see his chest rising and falling in my peripheral vision. I swear I could hear my heart pounding in my ears as I inched closer to him. I could’ve been reading the entire situation wrong, but I was too captivated to care.

Suddenly, the front door swung open once again, breaking the spell and causing Mickey and I to jump apart. The intruder was a guy I didn’t recognize who looked as annoyed as I felt.

“Bro, your dog is in your room freaking out. It won’t quit barking.”

Mickey stood from the futon and sighed, rubbing his hands down his face irritably.

“Fuck. Alright,” he said before placing a hand on the doorknob and turning to me, “you comin’?”

And before I could talk myself out of it, I was following Mickey through the front door to his bedroom.

***

The guy wasn’t lying. When we approached the door of the room Mickey had put his dog in earlier, we could hear loud howling coming from the other side. Mickey opened the door and walked over to the dog bed Keanu was seated on. The dog’s ears perked up at the sight of his owner and the barking subsided. Mickey knelt down, petting the dog’s head and speaking to him softly. When I entered the room, I shut the door behind me before walking over to kneel down and pet the dog as well.

“Keanu? As in Keanu Reeves?” I asked as I scratched behind the dog’s ears.

“Keanu Fleas,” Mickey said matter-of-factly.

I snorted in response. _Of course, he was funny, too._

In all honesty, my brain was doing nothing but replaying what had just occurred on his front porch. I could feel the tension in the air as we kneeled merely inches apart from each other on the floor. Then, he stood abruptly and walked over to his wardrobe.

I slowly stood as well, awkwardly putting my hands in my pockets as I looked around his bedroom. It was very average: an unmade queen-sized bed pushed up against the far side of the wall, the tall wardrobe Mickey was currently rummaging through, and a desk that sat across from the foot of his bed with an open laptop on the surface. He was clearly a minimalist.

What really caught my eye were three electric guitars proudly mounted on the wall next to his door, though. I approached them and reached my hand out to touch the glossy finish on one of them when Mickey grabbed my wrist.

“You can look,” he said with warning, “but keep your grimy hands off.”

“Yes, sir,” I said with a smirk and nodded.

He rolled his eyes and walked back over to his bed, taking a seat on the mattress, and that’s when I noticed he had a wooden box in his hand. Curious, I meandered back over to him to see what he was doing. I sat down next to him, looking over his shoulder as he opened the box. When he lifted the lid, the strong, skunky smell of marijuana poured out.

I idly wondered if he was really about to smoke again, but he looked up to see the look of confusion on my face and answered my question before I could even ask it.

“I’m just getting one ready for bed,” he explained as he placed a bud into the grinder, “it helps me sleep.”

I mistook that as a hint for me to get the fuck out, so I began to stand.

“Oh, right. Sorry. I’ll just—”

Before I could even comprehend what was happening, Mickey’s box of paraphernalia was tossed to the side as his mouth collided with mine. I was surprised, but recovered quickly, kissing him back and opening my mouth to allow his tongue entry. The kiss was messy, with our teeth clanking and our breathing ragged, but I didn’t care. The taste of beer and smoke on his tongue was evident, but there was something else there, something sweet that overpowered everything else. It was him.

I snaked my hand up the side of his neck and tugged at his hair, and for that, I was rewarded with a low groan from the back of his throat. I felt the sound vibrate into my mouth and it sent a rush through my whole body, setting every nerve on fire. I pushed Mickey down, feeling him sink into the mattress as I straddled him. I gazed down at him for a moment, and everything slowed down. I admired the slight blush that was creeping onto his cheeks, how his hair was sticking up in several different places and the way his blown-out pupils were boring into mine.

I dipped down and began kissing the collarbone peeking out of his t-shirt, inhaling the oaky scent of aftershave as I made my way up his neck, eventually landing back onto his lips. My fingers found his belt buckle and began unbuckling it. I rocked my hips, grinding my growing erection against his thigh. Then out of nowhere, as quickly as it all began, everything came crashing back down. I felt his hands grip my shoulders and shove me off of him and I stumbled over my feet, my back slamming into the wardrobe behind me as Mickey scrambled to stand up.

“What that fuck?” I said through short, uneven breaths.

“I—” Mickey began, running an exasperated hand through his hair. He looked around the room with paranoid eyes, as if he was searching for an escape, “I can’t fucking do this,”

“Was it something I did?” I asked, stepping forward, “I thought—”

“I don’t owe you a fucking explanation,” the look of desire that was in his eyes just moments before was gone, replaced with a look of contempt, “get out.”

I stood there unmoving for a moment, a look of confusion and hurt etched onto my face.

“Are you fucking deaf?” he spat, “Get out!”

I scoffed before turning on my heel and placing my hand on the doorknob. I paused for a moment, trying to conjure up something to say but decided against it. Without another look back, I took my broken pride and I left.


	3. Ian's POV

I jolted awake on Sunday morning to what sounded like rocks being ground up in a blender. Startled and a little disoriented, I frantically looked around my room for the source of the racket. As I came to, I realized the sun hadn’t even risen yet. I tiredly rubbed a hand over my face and glanced at the red glimmering numbers on my alarm clock. 6:17 AM.

_What the fuck, Moose._

I groaned and fell back onto my mattress, yanking a pillow over my face, attempting to drown out the noise of my roommate undoubtedly preparing one of his Ass Crack of Dawn Earth Smoothies. I knew it would be a futile attempt to go back to sleep, so with a sigh, I threw the blanket off of me and got out of bed. After slipping on a pair of basketball shorts, I walked into the kitchen to find Moose surrounded by different Super Foods and tossing them into a blender, just as I had suspected. He caught a glimpse of me on the corner of his eye and he turned to beam at me.

“Good morning! Isn’t it a beautiful day?” he yelled at me over the rumble of the blender as I shuffled into the kitchen. I looked out the window at the dimly lit sky before responding.

“Yeah…” I began, “how about you ask me again when the sun is actually up. Jesus, Moose, I swear you wake up earlier and earlier every day,” I grumbled as I reached into the cabinet next to the sink to grab a mug. I figured if I had to be up before the sun, I needed caffeine in my system, stat.

“I’m telling you, man, it’s euphoric to do yoga on the balcony before the sun has poked her pretty little head above the horizon. You should really try it sometime.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” I nodded as I took a sip of my coffee, “on second thought, maybe you should keep the yoga before daybreak. I doubt the neighbors want to see you downward-facing-dog while in the nude.”

Moose shook his head, his shaggy dirty blonde hair swaying back and forth.

“You’ve got it all wrong, Ian. We have nothing to be ashamed of! Our bodies are merely nothing but shells. Society only wants us to think we need to wear clothes, it’s a form of control.”

I nodded with a hum.

“Have you been watching those documentaries again?” I asked over the rim of my mug.

“That’s neither here nor there,” he replied, turning the blender on again.

_We have nothing to be ashamed of._

I replayed what Moose said over again in my head, bringing myself to the night before and letting the humiliation set in all over again. I never mentioned what happened to Mandy, I just sent her a text that I wasn’t feeling well and left the party. I knew she’d end up staying there with Dylan anyway.

“You ok, brother? Your energy is really bumming me out. You’ve got a dismal overcast hanging right over your head,” he set down his bright green smoothie to wave his hands around his own head to give an example, “anything you want to talk about?”

“Nah, just stressing over finding a job.” I lied.

It wasn’t a complete lie, part of the dismal overcast, as Moose so eloquently put it, was caused by my stress over finding a job. But, at that moment, the only thing on my mind was Mickey.

“Ah, I feel ya,” Moose nodded in understanding before slapping a hand down onto my shoulder, “fuck Corporate America, man. I’ve told you, you’re more than welcome to join my business. I could always use motivated, hardworking individuals.”

“You sell weed out of our apartment, Moose,” I said after a lengthy pause.

“And I make a great living for myself!” he beamed, gesturing around our shitty apartment with pride before tapping my forehead with a single finger, “just keep the idea in your noodle, my guy,” he finished his smoothie in three loud gulps, placed his cup in the sink and then headed towards the bathroom.

Moose, formerly known as Oliver, moved to Chicago from Miami around the same time I started college. His family was very well off with a nice house near the beach. From what I’d gathered, Moose’s family was willing to financially support him for as long as necessary if he just did something with his life. He decided to go to school at the University of Chicago and they were going to pay for all of it.

Not even a full semester into the first year of classes, he stopped going and failed everything. His parents were obviously furious and cut him off, but I was pretty certain he didn’t care either way. He only sells weed to make money because he needs money to survive, not because he actually cares if he has a lot of it or not.

Apparently, Oliver changed his name to Moose after one of his hallucinogenic trips. He claims to have had a vivid vision of his past life, where he was a moose, grazing the plains of Canada. He says he was killed by hunters and that was the reason he chose to go vegan and change his name. After he told me that story when we first met, I asked him, “So, are you going to go by Oliver in your next life since that’s technically who you are now?”

His eyes went wide before he replied, _“The Butterfly Effect,”_

Which made absolutely no sense but I nodded as if I understood anyway. Moose was an idiot, but I loved him.

Long story short, by the grace of Buddha or whoever he worshipped, Moose ended up becoming the largest marijuana distributor for the University of Chicago. My original roommate didn’t work out, and Mandy let me know that her dealer was looking for somewhere to live. And just like that, we’d been roommates ever since.

I downed the rest of my coffee and glanced at the clock on the stove. Realizing I still had a few hours before I had to go to work, I decided to jump in the shower. As I shuffled into the bathroom to turn the water on, I heard my phone go off from my bedroom.

**Mandy: you ok? you’ve been acting weird**

I sighed loudly, having no clue how to respond. I stared down at the screen for a while before deciding I’d tackle that problem after a hot shower. I threw my phone down onto the bed and made my way out of the room. The bathroom was already full of steam as I stepped into the tub. Once under the stream, I closed my eyes and let the scalding water ease my tension. My mind wandered back to the previous night and I wondered what had gone wrong. Things seemed to be going well and I just wanted to know what flipped the switch in Mickey that made him turn so cold towards me.

A part of me felt guilty like maybe I had read the signs wrong and overstepped some sort of boundary, but then another, bigger part of me was pissed off. I reminded myself that Mickey kissed me first, which brought on the memory of the feeling of his dick against mine, hard and straining behind the zipper of his jeans as he groaned into my mouth. I imagined where it could have gone, tattooed fingers pulling at the hem of my shirt, blunt nails scratching down my back, leaving angry red lines in their wake as I pounded into him.

As pissed off as I was at Mickey, my dick forgave him. The water rolling down my torso suddenly felt hotter, almost boiling. I could feel myself getting hard and for a split second, I considered jacking off to the intrusive thoughts but I stopped myself, knowing the guilt that would be sure to follow. Groaning, I turned the knob above the faucet all the way to the right, immediately spraying myself with freezing cold water. The shock from the temperature change almost instantly killed my erection but also ruined my relaxing shower. With a huff, I turned the water off and slung open the shower curtain. I couldn’t figure out why I couldn’t get this guy out of my head. Mickey wasn’t the first guy to ever reject me, so why did this time bother me so much? 

Once I was back in my room with my towel wrapped tightly around my waist, I dropped down onto my unmade bed with a grunt. I contemplated calling in sick to Luigi’s, but I really needed the extra cash. I reminded myself that if it was slow enough, I might even be able to hide in the backroom and send my resume to more potential jobs. I knew myself though. I would bring my computer to work and tell myself that I would keep busy by filling out applications, but in reality, my laptop would sit untouched in my manager’s office while I stood behind the register daydreaming about Mickey.

It was so frustrating that this guy treated me like absolute shit, not only in his bedroom but also earlier in the night when we had first met in front of the bathrooms at the venue. And yet, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I still wanted him. It was never a secret that I tended to always crave what I couldn’t have, but when someone is so brash and impolite upon our first time meeting, it would usually be a huge turnoff for me. But with Mickey, it was kind of endearing. Maybe it was all a mask, and subconsciously I could see through him. Maybe I was just making excuses to make myself feel better for liking the fact that a guy was rude to me.

My phone pinged loudly from the pillow above my head, making me jump. I figured it was probably Mandy again, bitching about the fact that I hadn’t texted her back. I reached up behind my head without looking, feeling around the pillow for the device. 

**William: Hey. I’ll be back in town later tonight. Can I come by?**

I smirked up at the screen. Usually, I’d be irritated by an 8 AM booty call, but I figured that the best way to kick the thoughts of Mickey out of my head, would definitely be to fuck them out with someone else. 

**Me: I get off at 9. See you then.**

***

When it was time for me to go to work later that afternoon, the weather decided to mirror my mood. As I stood in the dark stairwell of my apartment complex, I glared out at the torrential downpour beating down onto the asphalt parking lot. Cursing to myself, I pulled the hood of my jacket over my head and darted through the empty parking spaces, before ducking into the beat down car provided to me courtesy of Luigi’s. My boss, Jason, first handed me the keys to the piece of shit two years ago, when I first started delivering pizzas. I was the only one who worked there with a license, so I really had no choice in the matter.

The red Dodge Neon was over a decade old, rolling on four spare tires with the driver’s side door decorated with a giant crater— the result of a former underaged employee getting T-boned after running a stop sign. That was the moment Jason started giving a shit about age laws. As much of a deathtrap the car was, it had character. At least that’s what I told myself every time I climbed into the hunk of shit. Jason was nice enough to let me use it outside of work, and for that I was grateful.

I plopped down onto the stained seat and sighed. I was dreading having to work the closing shift, but at the same time, I was ready to give my mind somewhere else to go for a few hours. As I pulled out of the parking lot, I turned the volume dial on the radio, attempting to swallow the silence. I quickly changed the station, scrunching up my face in distaste as Taylor Swift filled my ears. I stopped on the local rock station just as a song was ending.

“Up next we’ve got an up-and-coming band, straight outta Chicago! Here’s Collateral Damage with their new single, ‘Push’!”

Suddenly Mickey’s voice surrounded me. His voice sounded the same through the speakers as it did when I heard it live, and that pissed me off for some reason. My hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, my knuckles turning white. I recognized the lyrics, I remembered hearing them pouring out of the singer's perfect mouth as he stood center-stage mesmerizing the crowd. Mesmerizing me.

“Jesus fuck!” I punched the dial on the radio, making the torturous voice come to a halt.

In the sudden silence, I wondered if I was losing my mind. I kept telling myself that once I got the sexual frustration out of my system, everything would go back to normal. I just had to get through an easy shift at work, sling out a few pizzas, drive home, go a few rounds with William and forget the frustratingly embarrassing night altogether.

***

“Ay, Ian, you ever heard of the Midas Touch? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure you got the opposite of that shit, bro!” my seventeen-year-old coworker, Javier shouted at me from the kitchen while my other coworkers all howled with laughter around him.

While attempting to stock the bottled pop cooler in the front lobby, I yanked too hard when opening the door, causing the fifty pizza boxes I had just folded and stacked on top of the cooler to come tumbling down on top of me.

I turned, shooting Javi a middle finger before readjusting my Luigi’s hat and bending over to pick up the fallen boxes.

“Murphy’s Law,” Courtney, a dumb blonde who couldn’t tell her ass from her elbow chimed in, “more like, Ian’s law.”

“Good thing you’re pretty,” Javier laughed, patting the top of Courtney’s head, “‘cause you sure as hell ain’t funny,”

“Fuck _off_ , Javier,” Courtney said before swatting his hand away.

My coworkers weren’t wrong. The night had been a nightmare. I dropped an entire basket of breadsticks on the floor while trying to hand them to a customer and I got lost during a delivery, which resulted in me showing up to an irritated dude’s doorstep 45 minutes late with a cold pizza. Not to mention, when I went to do the hourly bathroom cleaning, the cap to the spray bottle that was filled with bleach wasn’t screwed on all the way, so when the bottle slipped out of my hands, bleach water splashed all over my black jeans, ruining them.

My life felt like it was the biggest fucking joke and I was the only one not laughing. I had 20 minutes left of my shift and I couldn’t wait to go home and have a beer. Or ten. I pulled my phone out for the first time in an hour and saw that I had a missed text from Mandy. I cursed under my breath as I remembered that I had forgotten to text her back that morning. 

**Mandy: bring a meat lovers home. asshole.**

**Me: Home? My home?**

**Mandy: no, obama’s home. YES ur home dumbass. i’m already here. U would have known that I was coming over if u had texted me back**

**Me: William is back in town. He’s coming over tonight.**

**Mandy: better get a large then :)**

I groaned as I dropped my phone to the counter with more force than I intended. Leave it to Mandy to cock block me on the one night I really needed to not be cockblocked.

“Javi, throw me a meat lovers in the oven. Extra pepperoni,” I said as I made my way into the hot kitchen.

“Extra pepperoni? You must be havin’ another date night with Milkovich,” he smiled to himself.

I physically flinched at the fact that Mandy wasn’t the Milkovich that came to mind when Javi said that. For a brief moment, the image of me on a date with Mickey flashed in my mind.

“When you gonna slide me her number, Gallagher?” Javi asked as he began stretching the pizza dough, “these white boys she’s always running around with are too bland. She needs a little bit of Javier to spice up her life.” 

“You’re barely seventeen, dude,” I said with a laugh, “how about you try again when you can grow facial hair.”

“Your mom didn’t seem to mind my lack of facial hair last night,” he replied, thrusting his hips provocatively as he sprinkled shredded cheese onto my pizza.

I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose as I shook my head. I found myself wondering what awful crime I had committed in the past to deserve the tragedy that was my current life. 

***

As I exited the elevator, I made my way to the front door of my apartment with the giant pizza balanced underneath my arm and against my hip. I had to awkwardly fumble with my keys to find the one to unlock the door and nearly dropped the pizza in the process. Once I finally got the door unlocked, I attempted to push it open but came to a violent halt. The chain lock was latched in place from the inside, preventing me from getting into my apartment. I adjusted the pizza box under my arm once again as I peered through the crack in the door.

“Can someone help me out here?” I yelled into the apartment.

“Who iiiiis it?” Mandy sang as she came into view.

“Who do you think it is, Mandy? Let me in or else I’ll frisbee this pizza down the stairwell.”

Mandy shut the door in my face and I shifted from one foot to the other impatiently as I listened to her rattling with the chain before the door opened again, this time all the way. Mandy stood in the doorway, her hair in a messy bun on top of her head with wayward strands falling down and framing her face. Choppy overgrown bangs were partially covering her eyes, which were squinted at me, paired with a look of distaste.

“So grumpy,” she commented, “what crawled up your ass and died?”

“Nothing,” I replied curtly, maneuvering around her and into the kitchen to set the pizza down on the counter. I turned to face her again before I continued.

“I don’t know why you always lock the security chain. You know the deadbolt works just fine, right?” I said quirking an eyebrow at her.

“Old habit,” Mandy shrugged before turning to lock the chain back in place.

I frequently caught myself wondering what Mandy’s childhood was really like. I know she grew up in a shitty neighborhood, not too far from mine with her dad and Mickey but she never went beyond telling me anything but that. Over the years I’ve picked up on a few of Mandy’s quirks that felt more like survival instincts than OCD traits like she often blamed them on. The way the door has to be super locked at all times, how she closes her eyes and subconsciously counts under her breath to herself when she’s feeling overwhelmed, and the way she’s so closed off that she has been my best friend for years and I had just now met her brother for the first time and still knew little to nothing about her past.

After kicking my shoes off in the middle of the small kitchen, I opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of beer. I twisted off the cap and dropped it to the counter with a loud ting before throwing my head back and chugging it. Mandy was eyeing me skeptically with a hint of concern.

“Bad day at work?” she asked apologetically.

“Bad day at life,” I replied, eyes casting down to her attire for the first time. Mandy was wearing one of my ratty old T-shirts and a pair of my sweatpants with the drawstring pulled as tight as it could go around her waist.

“Nice outfit,” I said before taking another swig.

“Thanks, it’s Gucci,” she grinned before doing a full 360, sucking in her cheeks and attempting her best model pose.

I rolled my eyes and laughed, finally feeling a bit of the tension in my shoulders release. Mandy always had a way of comforting me without even trying. I pulled one of the dining room chairs out and threw myself into it with a heavy sigh before pulling out my phone, checking to see if William had texted me. I promptly ignored the missed call I had from Lip, the third one I’d gotten since he missed my graduation the day before. I wasn’t ready to forgive him yet, so I figured it was best to just leave him hanging for a while longer.

Just as I was about to send a text to William to see where he was, there was a knock at the door. After going through the obstacle course of locks, I was greeted with William’s smiling face and a case of my favorite beer. William had been to the apartment plenty of times, so he easily made himself at home as he kicked off his shoes and made his way to the kitchen to drop off the beer and grab a slice of pizza.

“What’s up, Mandy?” he smiled as he sat down next to her on the couch, “Ian told me you got the job you wanted at the news station, that’s amazing. Congratulations.”

My eyes may have been playing tricks on me, but I was fairly certain I saw Mandy blush in response.

“Thanks,” she replied before taking a swig of her beer and busying herself with finding something to watch on TV.

“How was Texas?” I asked from the kitchen, grabbing myself another beer.

“Exhausting,” William sighed, “the new dealership my dad opened there is an absolute shit show. The manager he hired months ago quit a week before opening and my dad still hasn’t been able to find someone new. I’m only home for a few days before I have to go back to run the place until he finds someone.”

“That sucks,” I responded before sitting down on the love seat across from the couch, “why don’t you just move back there and manage the store?”

A flash of hurt washed over William’s features before he quickly recovered.

“I don’t want to live in Texas again,” he said slowly “I moved here for a reason...I like living in Illinois. Besides, I’m not looking to be a manager of a car dealership. I want to own a few of my own someday.”

“I know. I just figured it would be good for you to manage one dealership before jumping into owning several,” I shrugged.

William laughed.

“I’ve been working in dealerships with my dad since I was a kid, I have plenty of experience. I appreciate your concern though,” he said before leaning forward and squeezing my knee.

I met William three years ago at a bar downtown, and it was purely friendship at first. We got along great despite our glaring differences. William was born into money and from Dallas, Texas. He had lived in North Side for several years by the time we met, though. His dad owned a chain of successful car dealerships and William, being an only child, was being groomed to take them over. I wasn’t sure if William actually wanted to own car dealerships, or if he felt like he was obligated to.

When we met all those years ago, we sat at the bar and talked for hours. William was one of the most levelheaded, down to earth guys I had ever met. I envied him in a way because growing up I always craved that normalcy. To have two loving parents, to never have to worry if you’ll have enough money to pay the electric bill, and to not have been in arms reach of every drug imaginable by the age of ten. Having grown up in South Side, where those things were completely normal and no one batted an eye, meeting William was like meeting a unicorn. I had always looked at North Siders as people who stuck their noses up at people like me, and most of them did. But not William. I’d never once felt him cast judgment on me.

We started hanging out almost daily, and for months nothing ever happened between us. Sure, I was physically attracted to him. He was practically flawless, with his toned build and soft blond hair always styled to perfection, his light blue eyes that felt like they were staring into your soul every time you had a conversation with him. But I never felt a spark with him like that. To me, he was unattainably perfect. Too perfect.

One night after he came over to help me study for an exam, a couple of casual beers turned into a few too many and we ended up getting hammered. We were on the couch drinking and going over flashcards for my Marketing class and by the time I realized I was feeling drunk, it was too late. We were laughing hysterically at anything and everything and getting absolutely nowhere with my homework. William was slurring his words and squinting hard at the flashcards while trying to read them.

“The…the total combined customer lifetime v-values of all of the company’s customers,” he fumbled over the definition before continuing, “answer: Customer Equity,”

“William!” I sputtered out his name with a laugh, “You’re not supposed to read the answer,”

William scrunched up his face in response before flicking the card at my forehead.

Without thinking, I picked up the entire stack of index cards and made them rain over him. Suddenly, I was tackled off of the couch and to the ground with a loud thud and William landed on top of me. We were both laughing uncontrollably as I struggled to wiggle out from beneath him, but he was strong and I was drunk. I began poking my fingers into William’s ribcage, which made him squirm. He laughed above me while trying to grab my arms and stop me from tickling him. Once he finally got a hold of my wrists, he pinned them to the ground above my head, hard.

The energy in the room shifted and William was looking down at me with a look I had never seen on his face before. Desire. We stared at each other for a moment in silence, breathing heavily before William dipped down and crashed his mouth to mine. He kissed me hard, and almost immediately I granted his tongue access to my mouth. My arms were still pinned above my head by William’s strong grip as he used his other hand to run it down my torso. His fingers made contact with the button on my pants, and it was then that I realized what was happening. I gasped into William’s mouth, causing him to release his hold on my arms and scramble off of me. William sat on his knees, running an exasperated hand through his hair as he eyed me with worry.

“I’m so sorry, Ian,” he stumbled over his words, “I shouldn’t have done that, I—”

Before he could finish his sentence I lunged forward, kissing him again. We kissed all the way to my bedroom, blindly slamming into the walls before reaching the door. William shoved it open and I pushed him down onto my bed before beginning to undress. A tiny voice in my head was telling me that I would end up regretting what I was about to do, but there was a louder voice telling me that we’d cross that bridge once we got there.

The sex was great. Though, when I woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and a naked, snoring William glued to my side, the panic set in. I made a futile attempt to wiggle out of the bed without waking him up, but bleary blue eyes slowly opened before honing in on me as I stood over the bed looking sheepish. William’s eyes softened at the sight of me before they flicked to the clock on my bedside table. Before I could even speak and try to fix what we had potentially broken, William was out of my bed and scrambling to put his clothes back on.

“My dad is going to kill me,” he mumbled to himself as he stood in the middle of my room shirtless, his unbuttoned jeans hanging loosely around his waist. His eyes were scanning the floor as if he were looking for something.

“Where are my shoes?” He asked before pulling his shirt over his head.

“By the front door, I think,” I said, but it came out more like a question.

I watched in confusion as William sprinted out of my room and down the hallway.

I stood there shocked, in nothing but my boxers for a few seconds before following him. I found him at the front door, a little breathless as he balanced on one leg while trying to slip a sneaker on over his bare foot.

“I was supposed to meet my dad at his office twenty minutes ago for a super important meeting,” William finally explained. I just nodded, still at a loss for words.

“I’ll text you tonight,” William asked as he shoved his other foot into the shoe, “if my dad hasn’t murdered me by then,” he laughed a breathy laugh before scooping his keys off the kitchen table. Then he was gone. I had felt like I was in the fucking Twilight Zone. Did we even have sex? William acted too normal given what had happened the night before and it drove me insane that whole day.

Once we finally talked though, the fact that we had sex didn’t come up. He asked me how my quiz went and the conversation flowed with no mention of the fact that I had him bent over my bed less than 24 hours prior. It became this unspoken thing for a few months, William would come over to hang out or help me study, and we’d have sex. He would get up and get dressed and either leave or continue to hang out like normal. He only ever stayed the night after the first time.

One day as we were getting dressed I asked him what was going on between us. He shrugged and said, “hanging out,” and that was that. We have fun, no-strings-attached sex on the regular, and are able to maintain the same friendship we had beforehand. I wasn’t sure if William had been with other people besides me, but I didn’t really care. I hadn’t slept with anyone since him but I wasn’t making a conscious effort not to. Until last night.

“Are you alright?” I was pulled from memory lane by William eyeing me skeptically from the couch.

“Yeah,” I replied, “I just spaced out. Hey, can I talk to you in my room for a second?”

“Ugh,” Mandy scoffed, “already? He just got here!”

I ignored her as I grabbed a now laughing William’s hand and drug him to my bedroom, hoping that when I was done with him, Mickey would be out of my mind.


	4. Ian's POV

“Well, that was…different,” William said as I laid beside him on my bed, sweaty and breathless.

“What do you mean?” I turned toward him, a quizzical expression etched on my face.

“I mean, I’m not complaining,” he rushed to say, “but I feel like I just got hate-fucked,” he laughed, hitting me with a toothy grin.

“I did not hate-fuck you,” I laughed back, shoving his shoulder, “I just had a lot of pent up…frustration.”

I understood why he felt that way. Normally, sex with William was tame. Vanilla, if you will. It wasn’t boring, or like I didn’t enjoy it, I just didn’t peg William to be the type to be rough in bed. So, we never ventured out. This time though, it was like I couldn’t help myself. Even though I was buried deep inside of Will, I couldn’t get the idea of fucking Mickey out of my head. It pissed me off, and so, maybe I threw Will around a little more than usual. He seemed to enjoy it though, much to my surprise, so I made a mental note to try it again sometime. Hopefully, then I wouldn’t be trying to pound the image of another guy out of my brain.

“Where do you keep going?” William asked me in a concerned tone, all joking aside.

“What?” I responded, distracted.

“You keep zoning out,” he explained.

I let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing a hand down my face.

“I’ve just had a lot going on. Me and Lip aren’t speaking right now, I haven’t gotten any interviews since graduating, therefore I’m a college graduate still working as a delivery driver.” _Oh, and I can’t get this guy I don’t even know out of my head._

“I still don’t know why you don’t just bring your resume to my dad,” William began for the millionth time, “he would hire you in a heartbeat. You would do great in sales.”

I rolled my eyes. Will had sung this song a million times and I was growing tired of telling him no.

“I’m sorry, Will, but I don’t want to be a car salesman. I did not spend four years of my life in school to become a sketchy con-artist. Besides, I don’t take handouts,” I said.

“A sketchy con-artist?” William huffed a laugh, “where do you come up with this shit? We sell high-end cars Ian, not deathtraps like the one you have sitting in the parking lot right now. No one is trying to give you a handout, I won’t even tell my dad I know you if you want. You are more than qualified on your own.”

I chose not to respond, I had zero energy to argue. He knew where I stood and I wasn’t budging no matter how hard he tried to butter me up with compliments.

“You’re so stubborn,” William sighed, running his fingers through his overgrown hair.

While being so up close and personal, I actually took in William’s features for the first time that night. He was always very well-kept, with a clean-shaven face and never a hair out of place. I realized that night though, that he had a slight stubble that was hard to see from a distance because it was so blonde it was nearly translucent, his hair was longer than normal, and he had dark circles under his eyes. I reached out, grabbing his jaw and turning his face side to side, inspecting it.

“You need to shave,” I pointed out, “and you look exhausted.”

“Charmed,” he responded with a deadpanned expression, “I’ve been so busy opening that new location, I’ve had zero time to sleep or do anything for that matter. And when I flew in, I dropped my bags off at home and came straight here.”

“Anxious to get the dick, I see,” I said smugly.

“Shut your mouth,” William grinned cheekily before placing his large hand entirely over my face, shoving my head back into the pillow.

I stuck my tongue out, licking a long stripe up Will’s palm to get him to release my face. He pulled his hand back and eyed the salvia with disgust before looking back at me.

“You’re a child,” he said before rolling off the bed.

I watched as Will slid into his boxer briefs and bent over to rummage through the pile of discarded clothes on the floor, before returning to the bed with his phone in-hand.

“What’re you doing?” I asked as he plopped back down onto the mattress.

“Checkin’ somethin’,” he replied, his voice higher than usual and he quickly typed something into his iPhone.

“Sounds more like you’re up to somethin’,” I said, cocking an eyebrow at him.

His phone pinged and he smiled down at the glowing screen.

“So,” he began after locking his phone and laying it down onto his bare chest, “this guy, Marcus, owns this record company called Ace Records. You ever heard of it?”

I shook my head, not really understanding where he was heading with this.

“Well, they’re pretty new and Chicago based. They’re hiring,” he said, with an expectant smile.

“I don’t know anything about music,” I said.

“Then you’ll learn,” William shrugged.

I eyed him skeptically. He must have been really losing it if he thought I would be able to get a job at a record company with absolutely no experience under my belt.

“How do you even know this guy?” I asked.

“He’s been a family friend forever. What?” William asked, exasperated when I rolled my eyes.

“I told you, I’m not—” I began before he interrupted me, waving his hand in my face dismissively.

“You’re not taking any handouts, yeah, I got it. Just email them your resume, don’t even put me as a reference, I don’t care. I promise I won’t mention it to Marcus. I know you’ll get it either way.”

I began chewing on the side of my thumb nervously.

“Just think about it, ok?” William asked, eyeing me earnestly.

I nodded my head in response wanting the subject to just be dropped entirely. Something about William that always tended to get on my nerves was that he seemed to be incapable of just listening. Every time I tried to vent to him, really just wanting to get shit off my chest, he immediately sprung into hero mode and tried to fix all of my problems. I knew his heart always had the best of intentions, but that didn’t change the fact that he frequently overstepped his boundaries.

My annoyance soon grew to anxiousness, and I could feel my chest tightening. I needed to be alone. I yawned and rubbed my eyes with my fists, probably a bit too exaggerated and sighed.

“I’m exhausted,” I said without looking at Will, “work was crazy tonight. I think I’m gonna hit the sheets.”

William laughed loudly beside me.

“All right, I can take a hint.”

I winced, feeling a little guilty as he got rolled off the bed and began collecting his clothes from the floor. I watched as William pulled on his jeans and pulled his Calvin Klein t-shirt back on over his toned body. After his jacket was on, Will put his hand in the side pocket and pulled out a black box.

“Sorry I missed your graduation,” he said as he handed it to me.

The box _felt_ expensive. It was leather and weighed a ton in my hands. I glanced up from the box at William, who was staring at me expectantly, excitement alight in his eyes.

“William, I can’t accept this,” I said, trying to hand it back.

“Oh my god, shut up,” he waved me off, “you haven’t even opened it yet.”

I sighed and moved the box from one hand to the other, procrastinating a bit longer. Finally, I lifted the lid and immediately slammed it back shut at the glimpse of the luxury watch taunting me inside.

“A fucking Hublot, Will?” I exclaimed, “really? I seriously cannot accept this.”

“Ian, I’m not taking it back,” William said “First of all, I got it in Houston. Second, they don’t accept returns.”

“Then you keep it,” I said, holding the box between us lightly, afraid to even get my fingerprints on the leather.

“Look, you can not wear it, or give it away. I don’t care. It’s your graduation gift and I don’t accept returns either,” he said with a huff, losing his patience with me.

I eyed him skeptically before sighing and turning my attention back down to the box in my hand. I opened it again to get a good look at the watch inside and nearly fainted at the sight of it. It was by far the most expensive thing I’d ever held in my life, and it was also one of the most beautiful. The watch was simple and elegant, with a round silver case and jet black face. The strap was smooth black leather and soft to the touch. Had I been able to afford such a thing, it would definitely be the one I chose. Suddenly, I felt guilt pool in my gut. I had just practically kicked the man out of my bed just for him to hand me an $8,000 watch in return. I felt like shit because I knew that no matter what, I could never possibly return the favor.

“I would never give this away,” I began, “I just feel like I don’t deserve something so…nice.”

“You’re overthinking it, Ian,” William said, “of course you deserve it.”

“Thank you,” I said softly, suddenly feeling small, “I love it.”

William stepped forward and placed his hand on my cheek before patting it lightly.

“Anytime.” 

***

It had been two hours since William had left and I had tossed and turned in my bed the entire time since. It was too hot, so I got up and turned on the box fan at the foot of my bed. Then, it was too cold so I got up and turned it off again. I checked the time on my phone about 300 times in ten minutes and the glowing numbers at the top of the screen mocked me every time. I couldn’t take it anymore, I unlocked my phone and sent a text to Mandy, who was hopefully still in my living room.

**Me: Are you awake?**

I watched and sighed with relief when the three little dots appeared underneath my text, indicating that Mandy was typing. But then, the dots vanished and seconds later, Mandy was shuffling through my dark room and crawling into bed with me.

“You can’t sleep either?” she asked, her voice penetrating the uncomfortable silence.

“Nope,” I said.

“Why didn’t William stay?” Mandy asked, turning to face me.

I only shrugged in response. I didn’t feel like explaining our whole ‘we have sex but he doesn’t sleep over’ dynamic.

“He got me that watch,” I said, pointing to the bedside table where the leather box sat.

Mandy sat up and flicked on the lamp before grabbing the watch. When she flipped open the lid, she gasped just like I did and slammed the lid shut again.

“That’s what I said,” I laughed.

Mandy was looking at me with horror in her eyes before turning her attention back to the expensive package. She lifted the lid again, slower this time, more dramatic.

“I’m pretty sure LeBron James has this same exact watch,” she said, “holy fuck, Ian. This guy’s in love with you.”

I snorted at that.

“Fuck off, no he’s not,” I waved her off casually, masking the fact that panic was rising in my chest, “I know it’s a lot, but Will is just like that. It was just a friend giving another friend a graduation gift.”

“Yeah, totally,” Mandy said sarcastically, looking at me like I was an idiot, “‘ _Here bro, I got you this watch that is worth more than your car. No homo, though._ ’”

“The iPod that I haven’t touched in three years is worth more than my car,” I said, attempting to play it down.

“Either you’re stupid or in denial,” she said.

“I did not text you for you to come in here and insult me,” I said with more annoyance in my tone than I had intended.

Mandy put her hands up in surrender and placed the box back on my nightstand without another word. She left the light on and plopped back down next to me, staring straight up at the ceiling as I had been for the past two hours. I found myself studying her side profile and comparing it to her brother’s. I was actually seeing more similarities between her and Mickey than I did before. They were twins after all, but I had a feeling my brain was wanting to see Mickey at that moment.

“Are you gonna kiss me or something?” Mandy asked, turning her face to the side to look at me, “because I’m gonna need to brush the garlic breath out of my mouth first.”

Her question caught me off guard, I hadn’t realized I was staring so hard. I busted out laughing in response, unintentionally spraying Mandy’s face in spit in the process.

She wiped her hand down her face in disgust, only making me laugh harder.

We fell into a comfortable silence again as my mind wandered back to the night I kissed Mickey, and before I could think better of it, the words were pouring from my mouth.

“Speaking of kissing…I kissed Mickey,” I said quickly, instantly wishing I could eat my words when I saw Mandy’s eyes widen. She recovered quickly though, and if I hadn’t been watching and waiting for her reaction, I might have missed it. Mandy closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh.

“It all makes sense now,” she said, opening her eyes and turning her head to face me again, “that’s why you left so pissed off that night. That’s why you’ve been avoiding me.”

I side-eyed her sheepishly, struggling to make eye contact. I was suddenly rendered speechless, there was a nervous knot in my gut and I had no clue how to respond. It had just hit me at that moment that it might make Mandy mad that I kissed her brother. She told me to stay away from him that night and I did the complete opposite.

“I’m sorry, Mandy, I don’t know how it happened. We were drunk and having so much fun. I felt this—this undeniable connection between us,” the words were coming out of my mouth like vomit and I couldn’t stop them even if I tried. I sat up in my bed, crossing my legs as I continued.

“At least I thought I felt a connection,” I said with a furrowed brow, attempting to rub the migraine out of my forehead with the heel of my palm.

“I’m guessing it didn’t end well?” Mandy said.

Her question confused me. I was expecting her to lash out in anger, yell, or even get up and leave. But instead, she was laying in the same spot, picking at a loose thread in my blanket between us and eyeing me with concern.

“Wait,” I said in confusion, “you’re not mad?”

Mandy sat up, shaking her head at me in the process.

“Why would I be mad?” she asked.

“You told me to stay away from Mickey,” I said, still regarding her with a cocked eyebrow. I felt as though at any minute she would remember why it should piss her off that I not only kept this from her for a full day but also ignored her warning.

“I didn’t tell you to stay away from him,” Mandy said, rolling her eyes, “I told you not to get attached. And surprise, surprise, you didn’t listen to me.”

She sighed before continuing, “I don’t give a shit who you want to hook up with, I just didn’t want you to get hurt.”

I let out a breath of relief I didn’t even realize I was holding and closed my eyes before falling back onto my pillow.

“I don’t deserve you,” I said sincerely.

“It’s true,” Mandy agreed jokingly, regarding me with a sad smile, “wanna talk about it?”

I considered saying no, but I thought that maybe getting it off my chest would make me feel better about the situation. So, I told her the whole story. I left nothing to the imagination, and besides a few uncomfortable grimaces, Mandy listened intently with no interruption. When I was finished, she didn’t respond for a moment, she just sat there nodding her head in contemplation.

“Please say something,” I pleaded, “tell me I’m not crazy.”

“You’re totally crazy, but we already knew that,” she said.

“I’m serious, Mandy,” I whispered, “I feel like I’m losing my mind. I just met the guy, he was a total dick to me, and yet he’s invaded all my thoughts.”

“Look,” Mandy began, “I can’t speak for Mickey. He’s…complicated. But, it’s no secret that you always want what you can’t have. You’ve been that way for as long as I’ve known you. I think it’s the idea of Mickey that you can’t get out of your head, not necessarily him. I mean, you don’t even know him.”

Mandy’s words stung, but I knew she had a point. I had always chased after things that were unattainable-a vice that I’d always carried with me. I considered the fact that maybe I was using Mickey as a distraction, letting him invade my thoughts so I didn’t have to think about my lack of future. I mulled over what Mandy said long after she had fallen asleep beside me, and right before I fell into deep slumber myself, I had one final thought: I was no longer making excuses and chasing the idea of a person who wanted nothing to do with me. I was going to take responsibility and focus on myself for once.

***

I woke up Monday morning feeling well-rested for the first time in months. I could feel the warmth of Mandy’s body flush against my back with her thin arm wrapped around my torso tightly. I slid from under her arm, out of my little spoon position as I slung my legs off the side of the bed. Mandy mumbled something in her sleep before tossing over onto her stomach, sprawling out across the side of the bed I was no longer occupying. I opened and closed my mouth a few times, causing my jaw to pop loudly in my ears as I attempted to salivate my dry tongue. In the kitchen, I started a pot of coffee before sticking my head directly underneath the faucet of the sink, desperately trying to quench my thirst. I heard my phone go off from my bedroom, so as I wiped the water from my chin, I made my way down the quiet hallway and back to my room. 

**William: In case you thought about it. marcuscolby@ACErecords.com**

The text made me smile. William, the ever-persistent man. Remembering the pact I made with myself, I decided to seize the moment. I sat down at my desk before opening my laptop. The black curtains were still drawn over the window in my room, shrouding the whole room in darkness, despite it being 9 AM. When my computer screen woke up, the light nearly blinded me. I flinched, turning down the brightness before opening up my resume file. I read over it about a hundred times, revising things that probably didn’t actually need revision. I figured even if I didn’t feel qualified for the job, I had nothing to lose and everything to gain. I typed up a simple email and attached my resume, my finger hovered over the trackpad momentarily, I shut my eyes tightly and with a deep breath, I clicked send. I smiled to myself before picking up my phone and responding to Will. 

**Me: I thought about it. Let’s meet for lunch.**

****

**William: Patsy’s at noon?**

I responded with a simple thumbs-up emoji before heading back into the kitchen. I poured myself a cup of coffee and immediately took a sip, hissing when the scalding black liquid burnt my tongue. I had probably ruined my taste buds for the rest of the day, but I was too busy thinking about my resume, sitting in Marcus’ inbox somewhere in the Ace office building in Downtown Chicago. Had he read it yet? What if it went to his junk mail for some reason? Maybe I should send it again. I wasn’t sure if it was my shift in priorities the night before or the fact that this job was the most interesting that I’d applied for, but I found myself giddy for the first time at the idea of a call back from Marcus.

After setting my mug down, I reached back up into the cupboard and pulled out another one. I filled the mug halfway before adding four scoops of sugar and a shit-ton of cream- just the way Mandy liked it. I walked back into my bedroom, each hand occupied by a steaming mug as I approached Mandy’s sleeping form. Squatting down on my knees beside the bed, I waved one of the mugs underneath her nose until her face scrunched up in distaste. Mandy opened one eye, squinting it in annoyance.

“I come bearing gifts,” I beamed at her.

“You can shove your gifts up your ass,” she grumbled and rolled away.

I chuckled fondly as I set the mug on my bedside table.

“It’s always sunshine and rainbows when you sleep over, Mandy.”

That earned me a middle finger.

“Well, all right, Sleeping Beauty, I’m going to head out in a little bit. Your coffee will be over here, probably cold, but here nonetheless.”

A muffled grumble is all I received in response. 

***

Patsy’s Diner was crowded, as usual, bustling with the regular Chicagoans craving the all-day breakfast and burnt coffee. There was something nostalgic that always warmed me to my core when I walked into the South Side diner. I didn’t know if it was the peeling linoleum floors, the unsteady tables with their surfaces chipping away with every year, or the smell of eggs and syrup constantly pumping out of the kitchen. Either way, every time I stepped foot into Patsy’s, I felt at home. The diner hadn’t changed a single bit in all the years I’d been a customer. I frequented as a kid, walking there every day after school and doing my homework while Fiona worked part-time. I still frequented the shit hole to that day, meeting Lip every week to catch up. 

William waved me over from my usual table in the back corner of the diner, he stood in khaki pants paired with a tucked-in white button-down that he most definitely ironed before leaving the house. I chuckled to myself as he bounced from one foot to the other, looking like an excited golden retriever as he waved at me exaggeratedly. The contrast of a squeaky-clean, demure William standing in a rinky-dink diner that probably failed every one of its health inspections was comical.

Once I shuffled through the too-close tables and made it to William, I was greeted with a crooked smile, making the single dimple in his cheek prominent.

“I ordered us coffees and waters,” he said as we pulled our chairs out to sit.

“Thanks,” I replied easily, bringing my arms up to rest on the table.

“So…” William said, trailing off expectantly, “you thought about it?”

I chuckled, shaking my head, “we’re diving right in, huh?”

William only continued to stare, waiting for my answer, to which I sighed. 

“I sent in my resume this morning,” I put my hand up to placate him, as I could see the excitement about to bubble out of him, “I haven’t heard anything back yet, obviously.”

I would have been lying if I said I didn’t have my phone sitting face-up on the table beside my elbow, volume set to full blast. Although I had my doubts at first about applying for the position at Ace Records, I had spent my morning researching the record label and the thought of working for them had me surprisingly excited. They were a relatively new company, having just started out five years prior. Though the record label was so young, they had several big-name artists already signed with them. I’d never paid attention to labels and who was signed with who, but reading up on it was interesting. 

William eyed me with a smirk as the waitress bent over our table, placing our drinks down in front of us. I nervously picked at the top layer of the table; essentially a big sticker meant to resemble wood but years of wear and tear had it peeling up on the corners. When the waitress retreated, announcing that she would give us a few more minutes to look over the menu, William leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

“You’ll hear back from them today,” he said knowingly.

“Hopefully.”

“No, you will,” he said with so much certainty, I found it difficult to look him in the eye.

“So,” I began, changing the subject, “when do you have to go back to Texas?”

William quirked an eyebrow at me over the rim of his coffee mug, as if to say _‘I know what you’re trying to do,’_ but he answered my question anyway.

“I have to leave on Tuesday. I’ll probably be there for a while this time, my dad has kind of slowed down on looking for someone new, he’s just going to have me take care of everything for the time being,” William said, a sad smirk playing on his lips. He was usually pretty good at masking the fact that he was feeling unfulfilled living in his father’s shadow, but sometimes the mask slipped, just like that moment. 

“How long is a while?” I asked, bringing the cup of water to my lips but stopping short when I noticed the residue of lipstick on the rim of my glass. I grimaced before setting the cup back on the table. 

“I don’t know,” he said, “a month? Two?” William sighed before leaning back in his chair, his shoulders slouching forward in exhaustion and crumpling his always-perfect-posture, “I guess I should take your advice and just move there. I’ll practically be living there anyway.”

I could tell my words from the night before hurt him, but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why. Just then, the waitress reappeared, looking flustered and annoyed with her pen and booklet in her hand. I decided not to mention the lipstick on my glass, not wanting to stress her out further. I’d just stick to my coffee. 

The rest of our lunch went by smoothly, we didn’t bring up Texas or Ace Records again, even though both topics were hanging above our heads like flashing neon signs. I did my best to not check my phone every minute and William did his best to hide his exhaustion from work and travel. I was mid-bite into my egg and cheese sandwich, listening to William ramble on about the new Tesla truck when I saw my phone light up in my peripheral. Both me and William’s eyes darted down to my screen, gawking at the phone call coming in from an unknown number.

“It’s a Chicago area code,” William said, not taking his eyes from the screen, “answer it!” 

I scrambled to my feet, yanking the phone from the table and taking it outside. 

“Hello?” I said into the receiver, hoping the person on the other end couldn’t hear the nervousness in my voice. I glanced up and through the window as the other voice began to speak, my eyes landing on William still seated at our table, giving me a thumbs up. I bit back my smile and turned to face the street.

“Ian Gallagher?” the voice asked.

“Speaking.”

“Hi, Mister Gallagher, this is Hanna at Ace Records. I’m the CEO Marcus Colby’s assistant,” the woman’s soft voice breezed through the phone, “we received your resume this morning. Do you have a moment to talk?” 

The next ten minutes went by in a blur, my chest was tight with equal parts anxiousness and excitement while my free hand moved through the air animatedly, something I couldn’t help but do every time I talked on the phone. I answered the basic questions coming at me from the other end of the phone easily, and by the time I hung up, William was standing next to me on the sidewalk with two styrofoam to-go boxes in his hands. When I turned to face his hopeful expression, the grin that spread across my face was nearly painful. 

“I have an interview on Monday.” My voice sounded foreign to my ears, I felt as if I were floating there on the sidewalk in front of Patsy’s Diner. The afternoon sun was high in the sky, reflecting brightly from William’s blond hair, making his blue eyes appear translucent. A smile broke out on his face and his eyes were alight with pride as he literally jumped in victory, the to-go boxes screeching against each other in protest. 

“Yes!” Will exclaimed, stepping forward to embrace me in a one-armed hug, “congratulations, Ian.” 

I returned the hug with a chuckle and replied into the crook of his neck.

“It’s just an interview,” I tried to downplay it, failing miserably because even I could hear the smile in my voice, “I didn’t get the job.”

“Yet,” William said, pulling away and holding me at arm's length, “you didn’t get the job, yet.” 

Without thinking, I lunged forward and crashed our lips together. It happened so fast, I didn’t even give myself time to regret what I had done. William and I had never shared a kiss that didn’t lead to sex, it was an unspoken rule that we were purely platonic outside of the bedroom. The excitement of the phone call still had me bursting at the seams, the blush on William’s cheeks and the shock in his expression went virtually unnoticed.

“Come on,” Will said with a smirk, looking at me with a new softness in his eyes, “I’ll give you a ride home.”


	5. Ian's POV

“ _Daaaamn_ , Ian,” Mandy exclaimed with approval from where she sat cross-legged on my bed, “come to mama!”

I watched in the reflection of the mirror on my dresser as she made grabby hands at me. I rolled my eyes at her before eyeing my interview attire for the millionth time as I attempted to tame my unruly hair. I had decided on a maroon button-down shirt tucked into black dress pants and a black slim fit suit jacket to top it off.

“I just feel like there’s something missing,” I said, squinting my eyes at my reflection.

Mandy held up a finger, prompting me to hold that thought as she sprung off the bed and into my closet. As quickly as she disappeared, she reemerged with a skinny black tie in her hand. Mandy stood behind me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and placed the tie against my chest, standing on her tip-toes to peer over my shoulder at ourselves in the mirror.

“Perfect!” Mandy squealed in my ear, “simple, yet classic. They’re gonna hire your ass on the spot lookin’ like that.”

I struggled for a minute with the tie, and once I was finally content with the knot, I gave myself another once-over before spinning around with arms outstretched, presenting my look in its finality. Mandy clapped excitedly, jumping in place before looking me up and down exaggeratedly.

“I’d totally fuck you right now if I had a dick,” she said, nodding and biting her bottom lip.

I barked out a laugh.

“Keep it in your pants, Milkovich.”

I caught a glimpse of the clock, realizing I only had a little over an hour to get to my interview all the way in Near North Side.

“Shit, I gotta go!” I exclaimed as I scrambled to grab my keys from the nightstand.

“Wish me luck!” I said in a singsong voice as I sprinted to the front door with Mandy on my heels. She smacked my ass as I stepped out of the apartment.

“Go forth and conquer, my fiery-headed nymph!”

And with that, I was out the door and on my way to what would hopefully be my new career.

***

It was a beautiful day in Near North Side, Chicago. The sun was beating down on my face, causing me to shield my eyes as I approached the enormous building. The sign at the top read: _ACE RECORDS_ in big red block letters. My heart was beating wildly in my chest, the nervous excitement really starting to sink in. I could tell the building was newer than the others around it-the architecture very modern. The building was tall and made entirely of windows that had a chrome sheen over them, not allowing you to see inside but reflecting its surroundings instead.

As I reached to pull the door open, a petite blonde woman in a pencil skirt and a big hurry rushed out, and if I hadn’t been quick enough to move out of her way, I would’ve been wearing the latte that was occupying her hand. The woman had her cellphone in the crook of her neck and a briefcase swinging in her other hand. I mumbled a polite apology but it went completely unnoticed by the woman who was already halfway down the sidewalk. I shook my head. _Let’s try this again._ I pulled the door open and made my way to the front desk, where an attractive man was seated at a computer eyeing me apologetically.

“You’ll have to excuse Hanna,” he said, “she’s running late for a meeting on the other side of town.”

I recognized the name of the woman who I spoke with on the phone. Marcus’ assistant. I made note of the fact that her voice did not match the pinch-faced expression I had just met. The man swiveled in his chair in order to face me better and rubbed a hand over his dark neatly trimmed beard, flashing me a gorgeous smile.

“What can I help you with today, Mister…?” the receptionist trailed off.

“Gallagher. Ian Gallagher. I’m here for an interview?” I don’t know why I asked it like a question. It was getting hot in the lobby and I felt as if I was suffocating in my suit jacket.

“Ah, right!” he said as if he were expecting me, “Marcus is in a meeting right now, he shouldn’t be much longer. You can take a seat, he’ll be with you shortly.”

The receptionist gestured to the chairs behind me. I nodded and gave a nervous, tight-lipped smile before turning on my heel to take a seat. I rubbed my sweaty palms on my pants and picked up a magazine off of the glass table in front of me, blindly flipping through the pages, my mind completely elsewhere. I pulled out my phone to make sure it was on silent and spotted a text from Will, wishing me good luck. I smiled to myself as I switched the device to silent and slipped it back into my pocket.

I hadn’t really spoken to William much since lunch the previous day, we’d both been preoccupied; me with more research on Ace and him with packing for his move back to Texas. He would be flying out the next day and I doubted I would have time to see him before he left again, depending on how the interview went.

Ten minutes after the interview was supposed to have started, a lean middle-aged man in a cobalt suit strolled into the lobby. 

“You must be Ian,” he greeted me with a genuine smile, his sparkling white teeth a stark contrast with his dark skin. _How is everyone here so attractive?_

“I’m sorry I’m late, my meeting is running longer than expected. Myles, will you call Rachel and send her in there to finish up for me?” He called over his shoulder to the receptionist who already had the phone in his hand, punching in numbers on the keypad.

“I’m Marcus Colby, CEO of Ace Records,” Marcus introduced himself with an outstretched hand and another beaming smile.

I returned the handshake, making sure I kept my grip firm as Mandy had told me.

 _“No one wants to shake a flimsy ass hand, Ian.”_ She'd said. _“You need to assert your dominance right away.”_

“Ian Gallagher. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mister Colby,” after dropping my hand back to my side, I was thankful to feel the nervous energy leaving my body.

“Please, call me Marcus,” he waved his hand dismissively, “if you’ll just follow me to my office down this hall here, we can get this thing started.” 

***

The interview lasted for about an hour and a half, with it mostly consisting of the basic interview questions, but a bit more intense than any other interview I’d had. Though it was probably all in my head; I was intimidated by the sleek all-white furniture and the well-dressed employees. Marcus kept it extremely casual and stopped me every time I tried to overcompensate for my lack of knowledge in the industry.

“Think of it as a well-paid internship,” he said, “we’ll teach you everything you’ll need to know. The best thing about hiring someone with no prior experience is that with the right training, they can be molded into the perfect employee.”

Ace Records was looking for someone to promote and market the artists on the label, whether it be out in the field or online, they wanted someone to do it all. They would teach the individual everything pertaining to the company, really “throw them right in,” as Marcus put it, following it up with “I hope you can swim.” So, they were specifically targeting people like me, just out of school, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and ready to work. It honestly sounded like a fun job and something I could truly see myself doing. All my insecurities were out of the high-rise building’s window by the time the interview was wrapping up; Marcus made me feel confident and excited about the entire idea. The CEO neatly straightened the paperwork on his desk and placed it into a folder before standing up and gesturing for me to do the same.

“Everything is looking good so far,” he said with a genuine smile, “now it’s a waiting game with the background check. As long as it comes back clean, I think it’s safe to say we can move forward from there. You’re not a wanted serial killer or anything right?”

“Only one or two ax murders,” I replied, feigning nonchalance.

Marcus barked out a laugh, wagging his finger in my face.

“I like you. But, of course I do. Any friend of William’s is a friend of mine.”

I felt the color drain from my face at the sound of William’s name.

“Oh,” I said with a tight-lipped smile, “you spoke to William about me?”

“Yeah, he shot me an email telling me to keep an eye out for your name to pass over my desk,” Marcus replied offhandedly before going back to business.

“Anyway, I wanted to lay all the cards out before you commit,” he said, leaning forward and resting his palms flat on his desk, “we require our entry-level promoters to go on tour with one of our artists in order to get a feel for everything. It’s extremely beneficial when it comes to learning the ins and outs of the industry and how we operate while on the road. We pay for it all on our end, of course, you’ll just be responsible for your meals. It’ll be right around three months on the road while shadowing a Tour Manager. I just wanted you to keep that in the back of your mind while we wait for the background check to go through.”

I heard Marcus’ words, but I wasn’t really processing them. My head was pounding with anger, red-hot and constant. Who the fuck did Will think he was? I was cursing him for letting me get excited about the job, for letting me go to the interview and think I had a fucking chance to get it on my own. I was humiliated and I wanted to leave. But, I had already gotten that far. Not wanting to make a fool of myself, I sucked it up and nodded, pretending to have absorbed what he had just said.

“Wow,” I breathed, “that’s a lot to take in. It sounds like a great opportunity though, and I’ll definitely consider it.”

“Great,” Marcus said, slapping a heavy hand on my back, “do you want a quick tour of the building before I walk you out?

 _No._ “That’d be awesome.”

I followed Marcus down the brightly lit corridor, the walls lined with photos of all the artists they had signed, their smiling faces looking into the camera as they stood shaking Marcus’ hand. Ace Records was Disney World for musicians; where dreams came true. It was too bad I suddenly had such a bad taste in my mouth towards Ace Records thanks to Will. I thought I might’ve really enjoyed working there. I looked at the pictures until it felt as though the eyes in the photos were following me, so, I diverted my gaze to the floor and quickened my pace.

The CEO pointed into each room as we passed, briskly introducing me to people through their office doors. We entered a large room full of cubicles, all occupied with the newest desktop computers. He informed me that one of those cubes would be where I would be working when I wasn’t on the road, and after a certain amount of time, I’d graduate to an actual office. It all sounded so great, I found myself mourning what could have been. William overstepped a boundary, deliberately going against what I had asked of him and my pride simply couldn’t let me take the position even if it was going to be offered to me.

“This is where the magic happens,” Marcus said, stopping at the entrance of a hallway lined with conference rooms, “this is where we sign our artists.”

I snapped out of my self-misery, remembering the photos lining the walls of the first hallway we walked through. That was where it happened, where it all started for so many musicians. As we continued forward, I noticed there were big windows looking into each empty room, displaying giant oval tables in the center of all of them.

“Actually, we’re in the process of signing a new band in this room up here on the left,” Marcus said, pointing at the closed door ahead of us, “you may have heard of them, they’re local—”

_No way._

My head snapped up to look into the room in question, and sure enough, seated at the big table and surrounded by his bandmates, was Mickey Milkovich. The singer was laughing animatedly at something Dylan said before he spotted me on the corner of his eye. His face instantly fell when we made eye contact, and if looks could kill, I would have been on my way to meet my maker just then.

“Collateral Damage,” I breathed, not even sure if I had spoken out loud.

Marcus was completely oblivious to the stare-off happening right before his eyes.

“Good! So you do know them. If all goes according to plan, you’ll probably end up on the road with them.”

I didn’t know it was possible for a stomach to drop even further when it was already on the floor, but I could confidently say from firsthand experience, it can. After what felt like an eternity, I finally broke eye contact with Mickey and mustered up my best fake smile for Marcus.

“Great!” I said, too enthusiastically.

_Fuck._

***

Once I was back on the sidewalk after the interview, I shrugged the suit jacket off of my shoulders; I felt as though I was suffocating. I didn’t remember anything after seeing Mickey, the rest of the 15-minute tour was a complete blur. I didn’t think I completely bombed the interview, I actually thought it went really well. It didn’t matter though, I couldn’t accept the job even if it was offered to me. The thought of turning it down felt like a knife in my gut, but I was ok with the pain if it meant it wouldn’t hurt my pride. Not to mention, working for the same record company that signed Mickey was completely out of the question. I laughed sardonically to myself, but I wanted to cry. The universe sent me a huge, flashing neon ‘fuck you’ and then spit in my face.

“It was that bad, huh?”

The voice startled me, causing me to spin around to see where it came from. Perched up against the wall next to the revolving door was Mickey, eyeing me with amusement. I could see a ghost of a smirk behind the smoke trailing from the cigarette between his lips. The singer was wearing dark jeans and a dress shirt that was untucked, but it didn’t look sloppy. One of his legs was bent with his boot flat against the wall behind him, looking so casual, as if he wasn’t causing me to feel a million emotions at once. Despite the internal tug-of-war that was happening within me, I wasn’t in the mood to deal with whatever bullshit Mickey was about to spew.

“It doesn’t make a difference, I’m not taking the job either way,” I said before turning on my heel to stalk in the other direction. I didn’t have to look over my shoulder to know he was following me.

“Hey, wait,” his heavy boots were loud against the pavement as he caught up to me.

“What?” I said, suddenly coming to a stop beside him.

“Why wouldn’t you take the job?” Mickey asked as if he really gave a shit.

I scoffed at the question before shaking my head and continuing forward. But, I was pulled to a halt by the other man grabbing the jacket in my clenched fist. I looked down at his tattooed fingers on the fabric and then back up to his eyes. His expression was soft, only for a split second before he caught himself and put the stoic mask back on before dropping his hand.

“I mean,” he began before taking another drag of his cigarette, “you clearly need this job, or else you wouldn’t be dressed as a poor man’s GQ model.”

He let the smoke pour from his nostrils, looking smug as he waited for the insult to sink in. I closed my eyes and let out a frustrated sigh.

“Did you stop me just to sling insults at me? I have plenty of those for myself right up here,” I said, tapping my temple.

Mickey’s face scrunched up in distaste, as though my words disgusted him.

“Oh, spare me the fucking pity party,” he groaned, “answer my question. Why wouldn’t you take it?”

I watched Mickey’s full lips part to take another drag of the half-smoked cigarette, and at that moment, I felt brave. I leaned forward as the smoke billowed from his mouth, and I plucked the cigarette from his fingers before bringing it to my own lips for a pull. Mickey’s hand was still midair, and his eyebrows were in his hairline, probably wondering where the audacity came from. I didn’t even know. I squinted at him from behind the smoke before answering his question.

“I know I’m the only one here who attended college,” I spoke slowly, looking directly into Mickey’s eyes, “but please, don’t tell me you’re actually dense enough to ask a question you already know the answer to.”

With that, I turned on my heel and walked in the other direction. As I took another drag off the stolen cigarette, I felt a pang of guilt in my chest for insulting Mickey’s intelligence. But, I was putting on a show and I wasn’t about to falter now. I flicked the cigarette into the street and continued forward without looking back.

***

The incessant buzzing coming from the cellphone wedged beneath my thigh and the mattress was really killing the pity party I was throwing for myself. I picked up the device, promptly ignoring William’s name displayed on the screen and powered it off. He was leaving to get on a plane back to Texas in a few hours so I knew the calls would have to stop soon. It had been over 24 hours since the interview, and I’d spent that time ignoring the slew of text messages and calls from Will. Meanwhile, I was cooped up in my room with the curtains drawn, flipping through mindless television. If I was going to be a jobless bum, I figured I’d might as well play the part.

Ace Records hadn’t reached out, and even though I knew the background check would take longer than a day, that didn’t stop me from feeling as though I was about to crawl out of my skin. I knew I wasn’t going to take the job for several reasons, and at first, the main reason was the fact that Will lied. He gave his word that he wouldn’t meddle in the interview process, but he went behind my back and did it anyway. Not to mention, there was now the Mickey issue. If I ended up deciding to take the job, I would be forced to work with him, stuck on a bus with him and the rest of his band for months at a time—it truly sounded like my worst nightmare. It was a sick joke, really. Being given this amazing opportunity, just to have it blow up in my face.

When my bedroom door opened, I jumped, startled by the unexpected intrusion. William walked in and stood at the edge of my bed, but he wasn’t looking at me. His eyes traveled around my room, taking in the clothes I had worn to the interview crumpled up on the floor, the Chinese takeout that was half-eaten on my bedside table, and the rerun of Jersey Shore playing on my television. Finally, his eyes found mine and the sympathy behind them made me self-conscious. I looked away.

“Moose let me in,” he explained. I only nodded in response.

“Is your phone broken?” he asked, eyeing the device on my bed.

“No,” I responded coolly, keeping my eyes fixed on the television.

“Did the interview not go well?”

It sounded like he was playing a guessing game with himself. What's on this week's episode of _What’s Wrong With Ian Now?_

“It went fine.”

On my TV screen, Snooki was drunk and dancing on a table. I chuckled to myself; not at the show, but the fact that these people were filthy rich. And for no other reason than being sloppy drunks and having sex with each other while a film crew watched. I kind of envied them.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

My eyes snapped back to William, and I couldn’t hide my shock. He had never spoken to me like that before. In that split-second, I tried to remember a time when I had ever even seen him angry. I couldn’t think of one.

“What?” I said, attempting to regain my composure.

“You won’t answer my calls, you’re holed up in here in the dark with old takeout like you just went through a breakup, but you say the interview went fine,” he reiterated, “what am I missing?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask Marcus? He told me how you guys are such good friends,” I said childishly.

William’s eyes widened momentarily, realizing he’d been caught. His silence was enough of a response for me to continue.

“Why is it so difficult for you to not insert yourself into everything?” I asked, eyebrows raised at him expectantly, “I mean, you promised me. That was my one condition!”

The guilt left Will’s face and was suddenly replaced with annoyance. He sighed heavily.

“I think you’re overreacting. I only told Marcus to be on a look-out for your resume, that’s it, I swear.”

“I’m _overreacting_? What are you not comprehending?” my voice was getting louder now, “Will, you lied to me. That job would have been perfect, and now I can’t take it because you _lied_.”

William’s mouth dropped open, and I could tell he was getting upset. His neck always turned a bright shade of red when he got worked up, though I’d never seen it be caused by anger before.

“Who says you can’t take the job? You’re being absolutely ridiculous. Why are you so unwilling to accept help? Most people would kill for these connections.”

“Oh, your _‘connections,’_ ” I put my hands up in mock surrender, “careful, don’t wanna choke while sucking your own dick.”

William brought his hands to his hair, running his fingers through it roughly as if he wanted to tear it out, “you’re maddening!”

“And you don’t know when to butt the fuck out!” I yelled back, “I grew up believing that if I didn’t work hard for something, actually _fight_ for something I wanted, it meant nothing. I can’t go to work every day knowing that the only reason I got the job is because I have connections with some rich Texas boy.”

Will’s face physically jerked to the side as if he’d been slapped. I instantly regretted my words as I watched his face contort into a pained expression. He looked as though he’d aged 20 years since he walked through the door. 

“Will, I—” I began, but he put his hand up to stop me before I could continue.

“It’s fine,” he said calmly, “I have to go or I’m gonna miss my flight.”

I chewed on the side of my lip and nodded as I stared at the floor, unable to make eye contact. I looked up when I saw him stop at my bedroom door, hand resting on the handle. He turned his head without fully looking at me before speaking.

“You don’t have to live like that anymore, you don’t have to fight. Grow up and take the fucking job, Ian.”

He walked out of my room without another word, leaving me feeling perplexed and guilty. I flinched when I heard my front door slam.


End file.
